‘I hope you have a better day tomorrow.’ Maggie restarted the bike.
‘Aye.’ He gave a brisk nod. ‘I might need a hand with feeding the cades. If I get any more multiples I’ll be overrun.’
‘Of course. Just bring them down.’
He nodded again and strode off. Tom was still watching Savage intently. ‘You okay?’ Maggie asked him.
‘Yeah, fine,’ he said, but he’d gone a little pale.
They set off again. Savage’s farmhouse was a grander affair than Maggie’s, set over three storeys with multiple barns and outbuildings. Maggie drove all around the yard area at the back as if she owned it too. A couple of dogs ran up to the bike barking. Maggie stopped and Tom hitched up his feet out of biting range.
‘It’s okay.’ She pointed at the black and white collie. ‘This is Mac and this is Rusty.’ The second dog was a similar size but a completely different colour.
‘He’s a nice colour,’ said Tom, tentatively pointing at Rusty. The dog came forward to sniff him and Tom snatched back his hand.
‘Red merle and it’s a bitch.’
Tom flinched at the word and Maggie chuckled to herself. ‘As in female dog. She won’t hurt you. She’s very gentle and very pregnant.’ Tom tentatively let Rusty sniff his fingers until Maggie fired up the quad bike again and the dogs retreated.
They seemed to follow a tree line from Savage’s farm for ages until they popped out near a pub garden. ‘Wait there,’ said Maggie, getting off. ‘I’d best warn them about Colin.’
When she returned Tom was off the bike and standing on the pub’s low wall. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘I’ve seen him,’ said Tom, pointing up the lane. ‘He crossed the road, right up there. He was just a dot but I swear it’s him.’
‘Brilliant!’ They both jumped back on the bike like a pair of budget superheroes and set off across the grass verge.
‘Slow down,’ called Tom. ‘It was around here I think.’
Maggie did as he asked. ‘Which way was he going?’
‘That way,’ said Tom, pointing to the right. They were nearing the bus stop. ‘There!’ He shouted.
Maggie saw him too. Colin was munching away at the bottom of a hedgerow. She checked the road was clear and drove across to the other side. She revved the engine and Colin looked up. He was momentarily startled and he dashed off following the line of the hedgerow with Maggie and Tom in hot pursuit. As they neared the end of Maggie’s drive she turned the bike quickly making it skid on the gravel and block Colin’s exit to the road. Instinctively Colin dashed up the driveway.
‘Yes!’ said Tom with a fist pump.
‘Don’t you go celebrating too soon,’ advised Maggie and she set off at a snail’s pace behind the ram. Colin wasn’t going to be rushed and he took a full fifteen minutes to walk to the farmhouse. The ram got distracted by some dandelions on the front grass and Maggie stopped the bike and jumped off.
‘You take over,’ she called to Tom.
‘What? Okay but I don’t know how to drive it,’ he said but he was already sliding into the vacated seat.
‘Turn the key, press the start button.’ She pointed to them in turn and gave him a quick run-down of the other controls. ‘Got it?’
‘Er, yeah. I think so.’ Tom blinked a few times. He turned the key, pressed the button and seemed to swell with pride as the bike started.
‘Keep roadside of Lord Lucan over here,’ said Maggie, pointing at Colin.
‘Who?’
‘Never mind. Low revs,’ she said walking towards the barn.
Tom kept the bike purring gently and edged it forward a fraction each time Colin moved onto a new patch of grass. Tom revved the engine a little and Colin turned to eyeball him. Maggie was coming back carrying a large piece of board. Colin started to reverse away from Tom.
‘Watch out!’ yelled Maggie. ‘He’s going to butt the bike.’
‘Shiiiiiit!’ said Tom, as Colin charged towards him.
Maggie banged on the wooden sheet but it didn’t put Colin off his target. He hit the front of the bike hard making it shudder. Maggie continued to bang on the board and at last Colin took notice and hurried off towards the back of the farmhouse.
‘Well go after him!’ shouted Maggie.
Tom panicked and the bike kangarooed forward a few times before he finally had control and trundled off after the recalcitrant ram.
‘Crikey, I can walk faster than that,’ said Maggie following them.
She hadn’t needed the board because Colin had decided he was going back to his field anyway. She watched him barge the gate open. Once he was inside Maggie tied up the gate with binder twine – properly this time. She leaned against the fence and let out a sigh. Tom cut the engine on the bike but showed no sign of getting off.
‘Thanks, Tom. You did well,’ she said. ‘Dinner on Sunday to say thank you?’
‘Yeah. Great.’
‘Roast lamb,’ she said.
‘Um. Okay,’ he said, his forehead puckering.
‘What?’ asked Maggie sensing something was amiss.
‘I honestly daren’t ask,’ replied Tom, with a nod in Colin’s direction.
17
TOM
Sitting in Maggie’s kitchen I was kind of hoping she was going to invite me to dinner that night. All that was waiting for me at home was fish fingers. I’d had pizza at school, which I had most days, but it never filled me up. I was pleased when she offered me some cake though, and it was a large slice filled with thick buttercream and home-made raspberry jam. It was very nearly as good as the lemon drizzle.
‘Bus goes at quarter past,’ she said, nodding at the kitchen clock. I felt my body sag at the thought of going home and of the state Dad had been in yesterday. He’d been home all day and I had no idea what he’d been doing. He used to do the shopping, ironing and cleaning on a Monday but not anymore; he doesn’t seem to do much of anything these days. At least I wouldn’t see him for long tonight though because he had to be at work for half eight. I felt bad for thinking it but it was just easier when he was out. He had to keep it together for his job.
Maggie was giving me an odd look. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. I paused to have a think about what I should say. Part of me wanted to spill my guts but I’d look pathetic if I did that. I didn’t really have much to complain about. It wasn’t like he was beating me or about to chuck me out. ‘I don’t mean to pry,’ she added.
‘No, you’re not. My dad and me…’ I stopped. Why had I started like that? I stared at the plate and tried to think of how to say it.
‘Ah, parents and children. It’s all extremely tricky. Especially around the teenage years.’ She nodded wisely.
‘Yeah. It is.’
‘He knows you’re here though?’
‘Yeah. I messaged him.’ I didn’t like lying to Maggie but it didn’t seem right to say, “He wouldn’t care.” That was a bit unfair. Dad did care but he had no clue about how I spent my time. He knew I had to stay at school to do my homework, because for most of it I need a PC, but otherwise he let me do what I liked. It was getting dark now, which might make Dad wonder where I’d got to. I’d text him from the bus.
‘Maggie?’
‘Yes.’ She put down her cup and waited like I was going to say something important. Resting her forearms on the kitchen table and letting the long flowy sleeves of her top puddle on the surface. She had some well weird clothes.
‘That lamb. The one the farmer had…’
‘Ah. Pitiful little mite. Sometimes they get stuck and you can’t save them. Other times they’re already dead. Given how many his flock will produce this season the number he’ll lose will be very low.’
‘It’s sad though. Isn’t it?’ I said. It had looked like a child’s toy hanging at his side. All perfect and yet lifeless.
‘That’s nature I’m afraid, Tom. It’s neither cruel nor kind just pitilessly indifferent.’
Maggie was well wis
e.
*
Dad didn’t reply to my text from the bus but at least he was up and dressed when I got in. He was having an argument with someone on the phone. He waved hello to me but then shut himself in the kitchen. That meant it was most likely about money. Did he think I was blind or stupid? The red bills had been coming in for months now and I knew things weren’t getting any better. If he stopped spending so much on alcohol we’d be better off although I’d never tell him that. But then he doesn’t spend it on anything else for himself. My mate’s dad goes to the football every week and his season ticket costs, like, a thousand pounds. At least Dad wasn’t spending that sort of money.
I heard him raise his voice. He wasn’t happy. And then it went quiet. He opened the door. ‘There’s fish fingers for tea and I’ve left you some beans in the saucepan,’ he said.
‘Thanks. Is everything okay?’ I felt I should ask.
‘Not really. No. I missed a mortgage payment. I’ve had that mortgage for well over ten years but the bank got all arsey about it.’ His face looked more tired than I remembered. He looked older too somehow. It was like I hadn’t had a good look at him for a few years.
‘What happens now?’
He sniffed. ‘Not much. I have to pay a bit extra each month to catch up the payments I’ve missed.’
He said payments plural. That couldn’t be good. I know he said the only times he and Mum argued were about money so things have never been great on that score but now he’s drinking more and more we have even less. ‘How many payments have you missed?’
He took a while to answer. ‘Three in the last year.’ He could see I was alarmed because he held his hands up. ‘Which is fine. As long as I don’t miss any more.’
‘Are we going to lose the house?’ I didn’t like the tight feeling in my chest. It was hard to breathe.
‘No. No, of course not.’ He shook his head but his expression didn’t make me feel any better. ‘I won’t let that happen. I’ll sort it.’ He rubbed his palm across his chin. He’d cut himself shaving and there was a fresh scab.
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to ask what he was going to do, how he was going to make sure we didn’t lose our home but I was afraid he wouldn’t have an answer, so I didn’t ask.
He seemed to jolt to life. He looked at the clock. ‘I’d better go. Are you going out, Tom?’
‘Nope.’
‘Then lock up behind me… and take care.’ He gave me a slap on the back, which ended with a squeeze of my shoulder. He meant well.
*
Wednesday was never a great day at school. I was useless at French and biology but at least I got to see Farah in English, although I had to make sure Kemp didn’t see me. I sort of nodded at her and she smiled back at me. It was the highlight of my day – other than that it had been the usual dullness. After the lesson I was packing my bag and she was talking to a friend but looking at me. I put my head down but she came over anyway. Joy, embarrassment and fear wrestled inside me. Embarrassment won and the heat rose steadily from my collar.
She’d only come over to ask me about the library so I relaxed a fraction until I saw Kemp standing behind her running his finger across his throat. I gathered all my stuff in a rush and told Farah I couldn’t talk. In my haste to escape I tripped over my desk and sent it flying. It narrowly missed hitting the teacher. He thought I was kicking off and gave me an instant detention. Utter disaster.
I went to the library and picked up a load of Save The Library flyers to deliver with my paper round at the weekend. When I finally got in Dad was whistling. Instead of feeling good about him sounding upbeat I was suspicious. It had been a long time since I’d heard him whistle. What had happened to make him sound so happy? Lottery win perhaps? He was stirring beans on the stove.
‘All right?’ I said dropping my bag on the floor.
He did a double take. ‘Is that a new bag?’
‘Mine broke. I used some of the Xbox game money.’ I’d kept a bit back.
‘Oh, yeah. I meant to say thanks.’ He looked embarrassed. You could tell we shared the same gene pool. ‘Grab a tray and I’ll dish up.’ I looked around. The kitchen wasn’t exactly clean but the bin wasn’t overflowing anymore.
There was clattering behind me and he swore when he burned himself on the oven tray. At last he put the fish fingers and beans on a plate and handed it to me. ‘Thanks,’ I said, hearing the suspicion in my own voice. What was going on?
We took our meals through to the lounge and ate in silence for a bit. Dad paused to drink some water. ‘I’ve got some good news.’
‘Awesome.’ He did look happier. I was pleased something had cheered him up; we needed some good news. I hoped he’d won the lottery because I really missed my Xbox.
‘Now don’t get your hopes up because nothing’s guaranteed…’ He had my interest now and I put down my knife and fork. ‘They’re running an apprentice scheme at work and you might be able to get a place on it.’ He was grinning. He looked thrilled. ‘You’ll have to get through an interview but they’ll take you as soon as you’ve finished school at the end of June.’
I wondered what I looked like. I knew what I felt like. I’d gone kind of rigid. The dog food factory. An apprenticeship at the pissing dog food factory! Did the disgust at what he was suggesting show on my face? He looked so pleased with himself I almost felt sorry for him but right at that moment I could only feel sorry for me.
‘At the factory?’ I needed to clarify the full horror of the situation. He nodded. ‘For how long?’ My mouth was dry.
‘Three years but if you work hard you stand a good chance of getting a permanent job. And it’s only four days a week because you get a day at college. You wanted to go to college. This is the best of both worlds.’
My eyes felt so wide I thought they might pop out. ‘University. I want to go to university.’
‘Uni, college, same thing. And get this.’ He leaned forward. ‘You’ll get paid nine grand a year! University would cost you that.’ He flopped back against the sofa in an olds’ equivalent of a mic drop.
I put my tray on the floor. I couldn’t eat anymore. I was sick of fish fingers. I was fed up with everything. My sucky life had reached a whole new sucking level.
Dad’s happy expression was melting away. ‘I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find all this out.’ I looked up but I couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t cause him to rant. ‘Well, say something.’
‘Um. Thanks.’ He beamed a self-satisfied smile and picked his cutlery back up. I was feeling brave. Like it was now or never. I drew in a breath and spoke. ‘But it’s not what I want. Being an apprentice at the factory – it’s not what I want to do.’
He looked up midchew. ‘You wouldn’t be an apprentice forever – it’s a rung on the ladder. It’ll get you started. Get you earning.’
And there it was – the real reason for all this. Money. None of this was about what was best for me or what I wanted. It was all about him. All about the great pile of crap he’d got himself into. ‘So I can pay the bills?’
His shoulders tensed and I waited for the backlash, but he relaxed and forked up some more beans. ‘It’s about time you paid your way. I was working full-time at sixteen. It didn’t do me any harm.’
I glanced around the room, the smell of overcooked fish fingers hanging in the air. If this was the prize you got for working forty-hour weeks for years and years I didn’t want it.
18
MAGGIE
Maggie was looking a little more conventional; her wild mane of hair was wrestled into a neat bun and she was wearing a long dark cardigan and jeans. Although the flared bottoms were a little out of sync with other ladies her age they showed off her red Doc Martens every time she strode about the library giving out instructions, which was every few seconds. The book club regulars had stayed on to help set up for the inaugural Save the Library meeting and Christine was like a caged bird being circled by a ravenous cat and seemed to jump at every order.
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‘Christine? Are you all right?’ asked Maggie, her voice gentle.
Christine breathed in deeply. ‘No. I’m not all right. We’ve got umpteen people arriving for a meeting. I’ve not told the council that we’re holding it here and I don’t think any of it will really do any good and…’
‘Christine. Breathe,’ instructed Maggie, taking her by the forearms and breathing slowly with her. ‘Breathe in peace and tranquillity. Hold it. Breathe out negativity and stress.’
Tom continued to put the returns back in the right places on the shelves, giving only a cursory glance at the two women and their mutual breathing exercises. The door opened and he spun around. Seeing who it was he almost tripped over his feet in haste.
‘Hiya,’ said Farah. ‘I brought my friend, Amy. Is that okay?’
‘Yeah. Come in.’ Amy and Tom exchanged taut expressions.
‘Hiya,’ repeated Farah in Maggie and Christine’s direction.
‘Christine’s a bit stressed,’ explained Tom in a whisper because Amy was looking slightly alarmed by the synchronised puffing that was going on.
After a few breaths Christine seemed to be calmer. She gave a series of hurried nods. ‘I’m fine. It’s just that everything hinges on this.’
‘I know,’ said Maggie. ‘That’s why we’re here.’ Christine gave her a weak smile. ‘Right, Tom, are you sure you’ll be all right doing refreshments?’ asked Maggie.
‘Yep. We’ve got it all covered,’ he said tilting his head at the two girls already setting out paper cups.
Before long they had a throng of people. Christine’s poster campaign and Tom’s door-to-door flyer drop had clearly stirred up the locals. Within ten minutes it was standing room only and Tom, Farah and Amy had a smooth system going on the drinks. The noise in the room was quite something and multiple conversations all on the same subject competed for air space.
Maggie brought the meeting to order. ‘I’d like to introduce Christine, who is our resident librarian.’
Christine got to her feet and as all eyes fixed on her she instantly challenged Tom in the who can turn red the quickest competition. ‘Err. Oh. Well. Thanks, everyone, for coming. Um. Yes. Well. I’m Christine and I’m the librarian here,’ she repeated. ‘But I’m not actually allowed to be at the meeting.’ She looked to Maggie, her eyes pleading.
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