by Nia Lucas
I make him do homework with me for ten minutes every night. If he does longer than ten minutes, he gets a hand-job. If he reads a whole page, the hand-job can be upgraded to a blow-job. If he behaves in class and doesn't swear at Sheila (who gets tearful when he swears) he gets a sex act of his choosing. If only the Exclusion Unit had known about the effectiveness of that little incentive scheme, his education might have played out very differently.
Tuesday 23rd January 1996
Since the New Year, as if staying financially, educationally and mentally afloat wasn’t hard enough, I've faced a new struggle. We will call that struggle 'Independence'. I love them, Jesus I love them but I am getting niggles of irritation at things that I had never realised were an issue before.
I find myself increasingly frustrated by the constancy of Shay and Lee’s company, the lack of alone time that I’m afforded. Boxing Day, a pre-arranged evening in with Han, Chris and Nico, was cut embarrassingly short when they turned up, uninvited, to 'hang out'. This was my night, with my friends and they hadn't been invited because, well, we don't have to do everything together. Them arriving pissed Nico off massively and made him sulk silently for the rest of the evening, spoiling it a bit.
Then I organised to go shopping with Han in between Christmas and New Year, hitting the sales. They ended up insisting that they drive us, then they unexpectedly stayed and changed the dynamic of what would have been a pretty full-on girly day of hardcore shopping. Han is perfectly happy with their presence, does not mind that it turns into an adventure in “Shay behaviour management” but I find that my laughter is a bit forced. I wanted it to just be me and Han.
These niggles, they are nothing major, nothing that causes a row but they keep happening. We were in London for two nights over New Year while I worked at the club. We arranged to stay at Rosa's this time, she was home for the Holidays and I expected them to be able to occupy themselves, even though a low profile was still needed around the Farm. I'd arranged with Rosa to try again with the bloody sales shopping, hitting Oxford Street armed with Dad's £300. Without them. Rosa and I had so much catching up to do, so much to talk about that I was banking on not really seeing much of them until we all went out to the club. But no. Like homing pigeons they bloody followed us and then proceeded to stick to me like glue for the entire afternoon. Rosa lost her temper with Shay and made him sulk when he “Wouldn't stop fucking dicking around”. We tried to lose them twice, it didn't work.
Tonight, the girls from my Geography group had invited me to a sleepover. I'd forgotten all about it until we were flying out the door this morning, quickly grabbing some pjs and toiletries on my way out. As the lads drove, I let them know that I wouldn't be home tonight, that I'd be staying with the girls and that I'll see them tomorrow afternoon. I choose to interpret their stoney silence as agreement because in all honesty, any other interpretation was likely to make me want to smack them. Hard. I flew out of the car, reminding them that there is leftover chilli in the fridge that they can reheat for tea, reminding Shay to be with Sheila for 6pm. I kissed them both and ignored the furious glares and frowns.
Tonight, I realise I have a larger niggle than I had perhaps realised. As I sit in Faye's house, laughing and relaxing with people I’m trying to get to know better, there’s a loud knock at the door. Faye goes to answer it expecting the pizza man with his second delivery of the night, even though it's 11.30pm and the last thing we need is more bloody pizza. Instead, I hear her confusion. I hear a voice I know. I hear rage revving in my ears. “Hiya darlin', is Lorna Davies here?”. O'Driscoll.
Faye walks back in the room, her eyes wide and grinning, the 'Shay effect’ making her giggly and silly and behind her is the tall, annoying-as-a-fucking-bastard figure of my most irritating boyfriend. Oh wait, right behind him, scowling and looking like murder, is the joint winner of the most irritating boyfriend award. It's a tie.
Shay winks at me, “Alrigh'? Little Red, c'mere, need a word”, beckoning me over. How, in the name of God, did they get this address?
As I stand up and my movement is taken as compliance as Shay and Lee walk back towards the front door. I follow them, absolutely fuming. Shay misses the cue from my face and tries to go in for a kiss as we stand outside, starts to say that he missed me, that he came because he didn't want a night without me. Lee’s sharper, he's seen my face, he's backing off, his eyes wide and anxious looking as my lip curls into a snarl.
We row. A proper, full on, humdinger of an O'Driscoll-Davies clash. He starts off trying to placate and cajole, tries to sweet-talk me, tell me how he needs my 'sexy arse' in his bed every night but when I go on the attack, accusing him of stalking me, of not letting me see my friends, he gives up and starts yelling about how it's a 'fuckin' piss take' to 'always be going out with other people', how he and Lee 'know fuckin' nobody' and how it 'Fucks them off' when I 'piss off fuck knows where'.
I lose the plot, dragging wide-eyed Lee into the line of fire, accusing him of not reigning Shay in, of letting this ridiculous behaviour happen. Lee, lovely Lee, he never fights back, he doesn't like the way that Shay and I (it must be the Celtic blood) regularly yell and shout at each other. He looks wounded as Shay and I continue to bellow insults at each other, nose to nose in our typical stance when we argue. Faye's neighbours are looking at us, through their curtains. I see one of her neighbours come out of his front door, arms folded, watching us. We are causing a disturbance. Shit. I close my eyes, angry tears leaking out from under the lids. Lee’s the one who steps forward, Shay’s stormed off to the BMW and I hear the unmistakable sound of a kick to car bodywork.
Lee holds me close, “Come home Shortie yeah, it ain't...it ain't the same when you're not there. Shay...he just needs to know you're OK, safe and that. It ain't gonna be like this forever, he's still, like, settlin'. Come home Lor, we fuckin' love you girl”, he presses gentle kisses to my eyelids, he kisses away my tears.
I mumble out, “How did you get this address, eh?”.
Lee snorts, “Fuck man, he rang Han when he got back from class. He rang her and told her you'd left your stuff for tonight at home. She's gonna kill him when she finds out he played her”, Lee smirks and I shake my head in disbelief.
Sending Lee to placate Shay and to tell him that I'm coming home, I walk back into Faye's house and into a silent living room. Twelve pairs of eyes are on me, the open front door allowed them to hear Shay and I screaming at each other.
“Lorna, are you, are you OK?”, Faye walks up to me, hugging me kindly and scanning me for reassurance.
I smile and roll my eyes, trying to make light of what they've heard, “I'm fine, I'm so sorry we were so loud. It's...it's housemate stuff, y'know? Look, I er, thanks for tonight”, I grab my bag and fish cash out from my purse, “Here's my pizza money but I, er, I need to head home and deal with....with them, so I won't stay after all but thanks for the offer. Right, I'll see you guys tomorrow I guess, eh? Have a good night, sorry again for the noise”, red-faced with sheer mortification and the knowledge that I will be the subject of discussion for the rest of their evening, I scurry to the car and it's Lee who drives us home.
That night, I wake up to find Shay wrapped round me like a bloody vine, clutched to his chest almost painfully.
I go to move and he whispers into my hair, “I love you Little Red. It...it makes me a bit mental. I just fuckin' love you”, as he presses kisses into my shoulder.
I pat his hand on my tummy and whisper back, “Shay just...just don't pull that shit again”.
But he does.
It's not all niggles, this life we lead. It's love and laughs and happiness and good things but I feel this pressure, this frustration as every week passes. I literally cannot go anywhere without letting Lee and Shay know, keeping them informed. It is genuinely more restrictive than living at home with parents, at least parents don't want to be with you all the fucking time. I don’t get a second to myself and if I do something crazy like pop to the shops and then impulsively deci
de to go to Han's for an hour, they come looking for me. Not in an angry “where the fuck are you?” fashion but more of a “we're bored, entertain us” manner. I have no freedom at all.
I'm not invited to the next Geography girls sleepover.
Wednesday 21st February 1996
I’m a muddy, bedraggled and miserable figure upon my return from the practice Duke of Edinburgh camping expedition with Sixth Form. Lee laughs when, Lemsip-ed and given the night off by Gill due to my severe cold, I cuddle into him on the sofa and whisper my confession that Shay was right, it was shit and a bit dangerous. Shay, who had kicked off massively when I left two days ago (telling me that I was 'not allowed' to do something 'so fuckin' stupid') is openly hostile towards me upon my return, scowling and sneering. I sniff pathetically and try to get him to smile at me but he doesn't. Lee's on the Playstation and I womble my snotty way to bed.
I nearly sob with relief when half an hour later, the mattress dips and warm, strong arms wrap around me, soft lips kiss my neck and he sighs, “You're a fuckin' irritatin' bitch Little Red, you know that, yeah?”, he grumbles into my skin.
I snort, “And you're a pain in the fucking arse who sulks like a baby Shay”, I smile.
He growls, “Shut it”
I poke his chest, “You shut it O'Driscoll”.
He’s smiling now, “I'll give you something to shut it wi' in a minute woman”.
I purse my lips, “I'll sneeze and fucking bite it off”.
Shay guffaws with laughter and rolls on top of me, his far-too-handsome face smiling into my mock-scowling stare as he says, “I love you Lor. It's shit when you ain't here. Just...just don't keep fuckin' off them places wi'out us, eh?”, he's looking for my acquiescence.
I smile placatingly at him, hoping he can't hear what's screaming in my head. I'm going to Ibiza.
I cup his cheek with my hands and look pleadingly at him, “When you were living on the Farm and I was down here, you were fine without me there, weren't you? Then at the other flat, we were apart all week but you were fine? You're big boys yeah, you're cool without me. I can't always be around Shay, I've got to do extra bits of work to get money, I need to spend time with my mates too. I might y'know, go places on trips”, I smile and nod, trying to get him to agree
He frowns though, insisting, “It's different now though, innit. We're together now an'...an' if me an' him ain't with you, who'll stop bad stuff from happenin'? Who'll make sure you're OK? It's.....it's jus' fuckin' better if we're together, yeah? I can't let nothin' fuckin' happen to you Lor, you know tha’? I need to keep you safe”, he mumbles the last bit into my neck, missing the look of exasperation on my face.
Oh bloody, fucking bollocks.
It's in that moment, underneath Shay's big, lovely body that I realise that there are bigger issues at play than simple boredom or jealousy here. There are bigger vulnerabilities, there are bigger, more complex emotions. But I’m seventeen, they’re only twenty. I have neither the perspective nor the experience to judge what this is. We have zero chance of getting this straightened out healthily and in a positive manner. There is danger lurking. I can't tell him about Ibiza, not yet. I need a plan to handle his reactions, to make it OK.
I talk to Han during lunch the next day and she rolls her eyes and tells me that, “He just needs to fucking grow up Lorn. I mean, seriously, I'll miss you so much this summer chick but like you say, it's actually only for a few weeks at a time that you'll be away. Jeeez, he needs to get a fucking grip, he'll be working full-time like normal anyway, he'll be busy”, her sympathy clearly limited.
She looks at me sternly, “The longer you don't tell him or Lee, the worse it will be chick. Get him told, yeah?”, she smiles softly.
I really should listen to Han more.
Chapter Thirteen
Friday 5th April 1996
Nico D’Angelo has lava rather than blood flowing through his veins and his naked body against mine is a furnace in the pre-dawn gloom.
I’ve heard nothing from them for twenty-seven days. It’s been six hundred and forty-eight hours of silence. Complete and total news blackout. Their stuff now lies in Costco boxes all over the flat, thrown together and sealed with bitterness the Sunday I got back from London. I'll have to sell their Playstation if I can't make this months rent. I’ve already sold the dress Lee bought me at Christmas and the perfume Shay bought me for my birthday. I'll have to sell the beautiful necklace Nico bought me at Christmas for my bus fare next week.
Han, Nico, Rosa and Dan think that the boys went back to London because they’re pissed off with me about going to Ibiza without them. None of them know what Shay and Lee actually did with those girls after I told them I was going. My pride, wounded and battered, still won't let me say it aloud. Han's tried to get to the bottom of the break up but I avoid her questions. Gill thinks they're ‘working away for a few weeks'. If Gill knew the truth, she would work out that I can’t afford to live here alone. She’d rescind her offer to let me live here if she finds out that her seventeen-year-old lodger no longer has two housemates to share the bills and I have nowhere else to go.
In the dark, unheated flat I whisper in his ear, “Nico, Nico I need to get up mate, it's nearly six. Dude, let go”, I try to disentangle myself, his muscled arms looped tightly round me, clasping me to his roasting hot chest as always.
I look at him as he sleeps, this gorgeous friend of mine and I realise that this will be the last time I wake up with him. It has to be because if I let this continue, I’m risking his willingness to be in my life. I’m hurting him by allowing this to continue and it's no bloody use both of us hurting. My hurt is unavoidable, it's sitting in my DNA now. They are gone and I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling broken. I won’t risk losing Nico too. I can’t lose him. I have to stop this before he becomes another person who thinks I’m dirt.
Throwing my legs out of the hot cave of the duvet, I’m thrust into the frigid cold. I have no more pound coins for the meter this week so there's no heating, hot water, lighting or cooker. I have to shower at school and Dan’s gifted lunch in the canteen constitutes my only meal of the day. Weekends are tricky and I spend a lot of time feeling hungry, especially on Sundays after my shift at the club but there is literally no cash left for food. When he questioned the cold, dark flat, I told Nico there's a ‘fault with the wiring’, so we normally hang out at his house or in the pub, only using the flat to sleep.
It's the Easter holidays and without Dan-funded school meals, I’ve eaten nothing except leftover breakfast stuff and cheap bread and Pot Noodles. I can’t tell anyone what’s happened, I won't tell anyone why they’re really not here. The shame and worry about losing my flat is too great. During the holidays I've been showering in Room Five in the evenings when Gill is distracted cooking her tea up in her flat. She doesn't know. I'm like a bathroom ninja.
I do the breakfast shift starting at 6am each morning before heading to Sixth Form on the bus, no lifts for me since they left. The shifts earn me an extra cash which I need for the rent because all my dancing money is going straight on my Ibiza plane ticket debt, a ticket bought with advance wages. My other waitressing money all goes on bus fare and bills. It's been four weeks of this crap and I am financially fucked. They are gone. Those fucking bastards are gone and four weeks on, I’m still so fucking angry with them both that the deep, endless hurt that sits just beneath my ribs has not yet had time to roar. I’m running on pure vitriol but I know that at any moment, I’ll collapse into the depths of that hurt and it’ll destroy me.
As I sit on the edge of the bed, Nico's breathing the backing track, I push the heel of my hands into my closed eyes and try to drown out my thoughts with the bright, whizzy lights that the pressure causes in my eyeballs. I miss them. I miss him. I miss us so much that it feels like my whole body is wired wrong, like I woke up in the wrong carcass. The pain is not allowed to intrude though, I need the anger to survive a life I no longer recognise.
The tear in my univers
e happened in the club four weeks ago, as I danced on my podium and watched a sneering Shay pull that girl to him in the club and kiss her like he kisses me. Then, like an axe in my chest, the sight of Lee's lips moving against hers, that nameless, faceless girl he’d pulled. His angry eyes fixed on mine, his hand in her hair, pulling her close as she melted into him. My lips, my hands, my melt. My Lee. I had to dance on as if nothing had happened, twirl and spin and flick and gyrate as if nothing was wrong for four fucking hours. Exposed, ruined and devastated but dancing through the end of my world. From my podium, I watched them lead the giggling girls from the dance floor, destination unknown. Then, as I zombie-plodded into the office at the end of my shift, I walked in on that fucking cheating piece of shit pumping his dick into that girl from the club. I saw Shay’s arse cheeks flex, as he fucked her against the office wall, a place he knew I’d walk into. He watched me with the cruellest of his most cruel sneers as he came.
I’d finally told them I was going to Ibiza and this was their response. Got it.
I spent the night at Justin's after my shift in numb shock. My world had collapsed in on itself, it was raised to the fucking ground and yet it appeared that my tear ducts had missed the memo. As grimy March daylight slunk into the corners and shadows of Justin's rented flat, I realised that tears had been scared off by a wall of white hot anger, anger so strong that my knuckles itched to punch, my legs primed for charging at somebody, my lips aching to scream obscenities. I got on that coach home, vibrating with fury. God knows where they'd stayed that night, with them probably, those willing, blushing girls. I'm probably not the only person Lee's fucked in a bed now. It's all broken and ruined.