Smack

by Melvin Burgess

  This is how I did it.

  I hid my bag in a garden a few houses down on Friday night, so I wouldn’t be seen walking out with it. Next morning, shower, breakfast…

  “Where are you going this weekend?” my dad demanded. He’d dropped any pretence of liking me over the past few weeks.

  I shrugged. “Downtown, maybe.”

  He snorted. My mum leaned across and held my arm. “Stay out of trouble, Gemma,” she begged, but I didn’t even bother looking at her. I thought, If you only knew.

  I sneaked out about ten. Mum was upstairs and Dad was out at the supermarket. I walked out of the house and down the road to the coach station.

  Oh, there was one little arrangement I forgot to tell you. On Friday I got my hands on Dad’s Visa card and booked my ticket. I also helped myself to his bank card. He was always running about the house yelling, “Where’s my cards, where’s my cards? If I can’t find them I’ll have to ring up and get them cancelled again…” So even though he’d miss them some time over the weekend, he’d wait a few days for them to turn up before getting suspicious.

  I have indicated that my parents are not overendowed in the head department. Dad left the number you need to type in the money machine written on the back of a mirror in the bedroom. He’s not very good at remembering things. On the way to the station I dropped by the bank and got a hundred quid out. It was no sweat. In the town centre I posted the letter to my parents.

  Then I stepped on the coach.

  And the coach drove off.

  And it was as simple as that.

  Don’t judge me. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone. I didn’t feel so great about some of the things I had to do but I didn’t have any choice. Stealing off my folks…well, it was either them or someone else. The way I looked at it, if they’d known…I mean if they were able to put themselves in my place, which I know is ridiculous anyway, they’d have given it to me, I expect.

  That letter I sent them—I tried to make it all right. Actually I wrote about six or seven letters. I hadn’t realised how hard it was going to be until I sat down and tried to say, “Look, I’m going.” I mean, what can you say? They used to love me when I was a kid but they hardly knew me any more and there was no way I could make them understand. Thanks for everything, goodbye, that’s what it boils down to. And I love you. I said that. I didn’t think it was true at the time but it made me cry anyway. I kept writing letters and tearing them up, writing them and tearing them up. I got it as good as I could but I had tear smudges on it and had to start again. I wasn’t going to post my tears to them. I was going…I was going and it didn’t matter how many hearts I broke—mine, theirs, anyone’s. In my mind I was already gone.

  I sat on the coach and watched the town go by. I didn’t say goodbye to the buildings and people of that place where I grew up, I just watched, I was happy to see them go. I didn’t know then how long I was going for. Sometimes I thought—just for a week or two. Other times I thought, I’ll never see this dump again. Thank God.

  The coach trip took two hours. I was sitting there wetting my knickers all the way. Every time a police car came by I thought they were going to pull us over and arrest me and take me home. Of course nothing happened. When we got to Bristol I was goggle-eyed looking out of the windows trying to see everything. I was getting so wound up, I just wanted to dive into those busy streets and disappear like a little fish.

  I was almost chewing my nails with frustration and excitement by the time we got to the coach station. I almost welcomed that feeling actually, because I didn’t want to be cool about it. I was planning on giving Tar a welcome he’d remember for the rest of his life. I was going to really go for it, knock him off his feet. I wasn’t going to be cool and swagger down the stairs and say, “Hi…” It was going to be full pelt, total happiness. Tar’s had so much grief in his life. I wanted to make the poor sod feel so good. And I wanted him to make me feel good too.

  I was thinking that all that excitement and frustration building up inside me was rocket fuel…

  I saw him out of the coach window, waiting for me. I ducked down. I didn’t want to water myself down with little glances through the window. I kept my head down right up until I was on the last step down from the coach…then I saw him.

  I yelled, “TAR!!!” and I dropped my bags on the steps and I went off like a scalded cat, shrieking across the tarmac, screaming his name at the top of my voice. He looked quite alarmed. I got my arms round him and I hugged him and, oh, and I kissed him and I hugged him and I kissed him and I danced around and then I hugged and kissed him some more and, oh, and I squashed my boobs on his chest and slowly this enormous great smile crept across his face…

  “Oh, it’s so GOOD to see you…Oh, I’ve MISSED you, I’ve MISSED you…” And I was pressing myself into him and pulling him against me and and and and—and I think it worked.

  Actually, I didn’t have to put it on that much. I was pretty near hysterical anyway. It wasn’t just Tar I was kissing and hugging. It was…being on my own, having an adventure. Yeah. It was life. A big, fat slice of life. I’d been so anxious sitting on the coach but as soon as I stepped off it all that just vanished. I was thrilled. Just walking down the road was brilliant. I felt like a kid. If I was with anyone except Tar I might have wanted to try and look a bit more cool about the whole thing, but that sort of thing’s wasted on him. He’s so cool anyway. I just wanted to infect him with Gemmaness. I reckon I did, too. He was walking along with his lips wrapped halfway round his head. I felt like I was blowing him along the road.

  I made him walk me round a bit. We went through the town centre to the docks…and I just fell in love with the place. It wasn’t big and busy like you think a city’s gonna be. No one was desperate about anything. There were weeds growing out of the walls and people weren’t rushing. I cooled down and I started feeling really mellow. I mean, I was still high, but it was okay to be high. No one was bothered about stopping me; it didn’t feel like I was going out of control. I remember thinking, I’m gonna like it here.

  Tar was worried about getting home. “They’ve cooked us a meal,” he kept saying. “They’re really nice people, it’s rude…” But I wasn’t interested in them.

  I don’t love Tar, I’ve said that, but I didn’t half fancy him that day. I kept catching sight of myself in the windows. I was very pink in the face and I was wearing all these russety coloured things—scarf and jumper and a skirt. I should have worn jeans and things but I’d dressed up.

  It was all for him, see. I wanted to feel like he could have done anything he wanted with me and I’d have let him.

  We got away from the docks and into the market and I suddenly leaned against the wall and pulled him on top of me. He’s about a foot taller than me. I pulled him on me so he was leaning against me. I could see from his face what I was doing to him, Then he kissed me—a real long kiss like we were on our own in the middle of a forest or a desert and there was no one within a hundred miles and we could do anything we liked.

  I said, “Wow…”

  “Yeah, wow.”

  I wanted him to touch me so much I think I’d have dragged him into a shop doorway but there were too many people about. But that was okay. There was always later on.

  We got to the squat in the end. I was impressed, actually. I mean, he’d found a place to stay, got himself a bunch of people who weren’t just prepared to put him up, they were even willing to feed him. He’d only been away two weeks and he had the whole of that side of it worked out. The only thing he didn’t have was a scene…you know, people to hang around with. Friends. You couldn’t put Richard, Jerry and Vonny in that class. They were too old and too nice. To tell the truth I found it a bit put on. The girl, Vonny, came over and gave me a kiss and a hug, and I hugged her back and grinned, but she hardly knew me. And I didn’t get the impression she approved of me all that much.

  Richard was a bit weird, grinning all over the place, but he was fun. I think he was sh
y or something. Jerry was okay, he was fairly normal but even he was putting it on a bit. I felt like they could have been vampires in disguise for all I saw of the real them. You had the feeling they were nice because they’d decided it was the fashion to be nice. You could see them working out how to be nice. For all I knew they were probably no nicer than I am.

  Now, if it’d been me, I’d have been sleeping in doorways and eating toenail clippings. But I’d have found a crowd to do it with, I expect. I guess I’m not all that interested in niceness. Sometimes people call me nice but that’s just because I can make them feel happy. Inside, I just want to have a good time, enjoy myself.

  I expect I’ll get found out one day.

  The first bad sign was that the meal Richard had made for us was drying out in the oven. Richard didn’t care. When I said we’d been sightseeing he beamed at the ceiling as if it was the most exciting thing in the world and said, “Oh, that’s all right.” Vonny was a bit put out, though, even though she hadn’t cooked it. Well, except she’d made an apple pie for dessert.

  Over the apple pie Vonny said, “How long are you staying with us, Gemma?” And there was this pause. I could feel them all looking at me.

  I thought…oho. Because it wasn’t, do you think you’ll like living here, but, how long…

  I just smiled and I said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know…” And I smiled and they smiled and Tar smiled.

  Like I say…they were all very nice.

  Later on we went to the pub. It was good, sitting in there drinking half pints of lager. They had to sneak me and Tar in slightly, in case the barman refused to serve us.

  They wanted to know if I’d heard anything about Tar’s mum. So we talked about that for about an hour, which made him utterly miserable. Mind you, they seemed to have a good time.

  After a bit it turned out they were all anarchists. That took me back a bit. I mean, I don’t know much about it, but aren’t anarchists supposed to go around blowing people up, not hugging one another? It turned out they had this big plan for Sunday night. They were going to go out and superglue all the locks in the banks.

  Richard got really beside himself about this. He kept putting his beer down and grinning wildly at the ceiling with the sheer delight of ruining the banks’ trade for a day. I said, “Don’t banks have back doors, then?”

  “Oh, we’ll glue those up, too. And the night safes.” And he beamed all round the pub like a man who had been given a million pounds.

  It was all arranged. Me and Tar were going along with them. I got quite excited about it. I thought, This is different. I always looked down at the vandals at home—you know, having a good time by smashing up the kiddies’ playground. Great fun, eh? But this had a purpose and anyway, I’d have given anything to see the bank manager’s face when his lock wouldn’t open. We all had a good laugh about that.

  I told them about my mum and dad and they seemed very sympathetic. Richard was quite distressed about it. “My parents used to let me misbehave all I wanted,” he said, and he grinned in that mad way he had at the ceiling. “I made plenty use of the opportunity,” he added happily.

  I was getting to like Richard.

  We started swapping stories about mums and dads and how terrible they were. Tar was a bit quiet. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? But I was beginning to get the giggles. I’d had a vodka and orange on top of the lager and I was thinking how just at that very time my parents would be beginning to get utterly furious. It was ten thirty and I was just one hour late. They’d be sitting there grinding their teeth and planning new restrictions, which frankly would be taxing even their imaginations because there wasn’t much left to restrict. They’d be wondering who I was sleeping with, what I was taking, etc. etc. It really cracked me up, thinking about them raging around at home and ringing round all my friends and promising themselves they’d be tougher tomorrow. And all the time I was a hundred miles away…

  They’d find out on Monday morning when my letter came through.

  And then, Vonny turned to me cool as a cucumber and she said, “Don’t you think you ought to ring your folks up and tell them you’re all right?”

  I just gaped at her. The hypocrisy of it! There we’d been swapping stories about parental horror and now she wanted me to start being nice to them!

  “What for?” I asked.

  “But they must be feeling awful. At least you could let them know you’re all right.”

  “And tell them when to expect me back?” I asked. “And to send on the woolly vests?”

  “No, like I said—just let them know you’re okay.”

  “I think that would be a good idea,” said Richard to the ceiling.

  Well, I was cornered, wasn’t I? I went on about the letter coming on the Monday morning but it wasn’t good enough. Mum and Dad were worried now. I tried to point out that at this stage in the proceedings, incandescent fury would be a more typical reaction, but no. Even Tar rounded on me. Then of course he wanted to ring up his mum and we had to argue him out of that. I hoped that’d put them off the scent but as soon as he backed down they started on me again.

  They even had a whip round so I wouldn’t get cut off in the middle of something important. And before I knew it I was standing there in front of the pay phone stuffing pound coins and thinking, Pig, pig, pig. How did this happen?

  “Gemma…where have you been? Where are you now?”

  “I’m all right, I’m just—”

  “We’ve been worried sick—”

  “It’s only half past ten—”

  “It’s eleven o’clock and you should have been in an hour and a half ago. I thought we were past this, I thought things were getting better. Your mother—”

  “Look, I’m ringing up to let you know I won’t be back tonight…”

  “You…you’d better be back. Picked up with some of those seafront friends again, have you? It isn’t good enough, Gemma…blah blah rant…”

  And he was off. That’s all it took. I held the phone away from my ear and I whispered, “Please, please don’t do this to me…” I was in the corner of the pub but I was aware of all of them looking over at me. I couldn’t talk to him, he was shouting so much. I couldn’t even look upset because they were all watching. I just had to pretend I was having a normal conversation with a normal person.

  “Oh, we’re having a great time, thanks. Yes, okay, I’ll be careful. Yeah, thanks, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow. Yeah, give Mum a big kiss…”

  And he was going, “Why are you speaking to me like that, are you being sarcastic? Gemma, what’s going on? Look, let’s overlook this slip. You get back here WITHIN THE HOUR and we can discuss—”

  “No, I’ve already eaten, we had baked potatoes. I’ll give you a ring again, tomorrow probably. Okay, see you, Dad, thanks, ’bye…”

  And I put the phone down.

  I don’t know why it upset me so much. I just wasn’t ready for it. I was leaving home, I was running away, I just wasn’t ready to start talking to them. I guess it took me by surprise.

  I stood there for a bit staring at the wall trying not to cry. It wouldn’t do for them to see me cry after speaking to my folks. Vonny came up to me after a minute and tried to peer into my face but I turned away.

  “Are you okay? Gemma?” She came up close and touched my arm. “Is everything okay at home?”

  The stupid cow! What did she think things were like at home? I closed my eyes and nodded my head. It felt like she was drilling a hole in my skull. She just made everything so hard. I managed to whisper, “Look, I’ve done it, is that enough?” She thought about it and nodded. I went out to the toilet to fix my face.

  Afterwards they were going to a party, but I didn’t fancy it by this time. I’d really been having a good time but now I felt shattered, totally shattered, as if I’d flown to the moon and back instead of catching the coach to Bristol.

  Me and Tar went back and sat in his room. I was furious with him for siding with them. We almost
had an argument and then I started to cry…

  I couldn’t really be angry with him for long. Once he saw me cry he got really upset about it. He started hugging me and saying, “Sorry, sorry…” and getting all wet-eyed. And I thought, I’m not coming all this way just to fall out with Tar about that pair of sergeant majors.

  We got ourselves cosy. I wanted to light a fire but we weren’t allowed to in case the neighbours thought the house was on fire and called the fire brigade. They weren’t supposed to know the house was squatted. We weren’t allowed to have the lights on either, for the same reason. I was beginning to get a bit irritated with the list of things we weren’t allowed to do. But Tar stuck loads of candles in bottles and made coffee and we sat on the floor in a pile of cushions and had a bit of a cuddle, and we talked for ages about…I dunno, everything.

  Then bedtime came along. I had my bedroll with me that I used for camping. Tar had his mattress and he kept going on and on about me sleeping on that. I could feel myself losing my temper about it so I just said, “Okay, okay.” I had his present to give him and I didn’t want to spoil this.

  I was feeling shy by this time. I put the bedroll down next to the mattress and got undressed and into my bag while he was out of the room.

  And I thought, right. I’ve done my bit. He can do the rest.

  Tar came in. He blew out the candles, got undressed in a corner and into his pyjamas. Then he slid into his bag and just lay there.

  I was furious. Livid. I had the bag up around my nose so my hair and eyes were peering out at him, three feet away with his eyes closed, all set to go to sleep. The worst of it was, I was getting cold and if this kept on I’d have to sneak out and get my pyjamas on.

  I lay there for about ten minutes getting really chilly. And then he said, “Can we have a cuddle?”