Truestory

by Catherine Simpson

  ‘Scran is food, Sam,’ said Larry. ‘Your mum has made some great food.’

  ‘My mother is wearing a T-shirt that I have not seen for four years. That is an observation,’ he said. ‘It is stretched tight over her chests and makes them poke out and look like separate things – not like her baggy jumpers that make them look like one Big Hill. That is another observation.’

  ‘That’s too personal, Sam,’ I said. Duncan laughed, still cramming spaghetti into his mouth. I don’t think Larry was laughing but I daren’t look.

  ‘She also has a skirt on,’ went on Sam, relentlessly. ‘I have not seen my mother in a skirt for, I estimate, five years. The skirt does not reach her knees by one and a half inches. That is – ’

  ‘Yes, don’t tell me: an observation. That’s enough,’ I said. I could feel my face burning.

  ‘I have not seen her legs for five years either.’

  ‘Does anyone want any more?’ I stood up, yanking my skirt down an inch or two. I grabbed the pan and dumped more spaghetti in Duncan and Larry’s bowls without waiting for an answer. Larry gave me a little smile. He felt sorry for me, I could tell, which made me even more embarrassed.

  ‘Thanks, Alice,’ he said. ‘It’s a good recipe you’ve got there.’

  ‘Observation is one of my skills,’ said Sam. ‘But I aim to improve those skills. With honed observational skills it may be possible to foresee more and to cut down on the unpredictability of life.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. I didn’t want to encourage him. I didn’t trust what he’d come out with next. ‘Bread?’ I pushed the plate towards Larry.

  ‘No, I’m perfect, Alice,’ Larry said. ‘That was great. I’ll give you a hand clearing up.’

  We cleared the table as Sam went back upstairs and Duncan chose some bottles from his beer cupboard.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Larry in an undertone. He was standing very close to me at the sink.

  I nodded, and mouthed ‘fine’.

  ‘You’ve got to try some of this “Proper Job”,’ said Duncan, coming back in and waving a bottle at Larry. ‘Taste the finish on this.’

  Larry said: ‘Aye, okay, Pal,’ and carried on drying the pots.

  We took a long time over it. I was washing up in slow motion so I could stay feeling the warmth of Larry right down my left-hand side.

  Duncan had his back to us and I glanced round once or twice to see him tipping his head back and necking from his beer bottle in front of the fire. The telly was on and there was a Formula One roar and whine.

  When we’d finished Larry went over and Duncan opened a bottle and handed it to him. He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said: ‘Aye.’ Duncan grinned and plonked his feet up on the range.

  I went across and squeezed between them both to reach my magazine on the mantelpiece. I shrieked when I felt a slap sting across my bottom, so hard it made me wobble inside this stupid skirt.

  Duncan laughed and said: ‘Well don’t go sticking it in my face then.’

  I smoothed my skirt down.

  ‘Stop it, Duncan.’

  But Duncan didn’t stop. He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me backwards onto his knees. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rubbed his face in the back of my neck and tried to kiss the side of my face, making stupid noises like he was trying to eat me.

  I was so furious it nearly choked me. What the hell was wrong with him?

  ‘I told you to stop it!’ I yelled and I wrenched at his arms to get him off.

  Knocking his hands away, I struggled up and marched off, putting the kitchen table between me and him. Duncan laughed.

  ‘I’m only having a joke,’ he said and looked at Larry but Larry was staring into the fire with a closed look on his face. Duncan swigged some beer.

  ‘Forecast’s good for later in the week,’ he said. ‘Happen we’ll get everything planted out sooner than we thought?’

  ‘We’ll keep an eye on it,’ said Larry.

  ‘Aye,’ said Duncan, and they lapsed into silence, staring at the telly.

  I’d had enough. Without saying a word I went upstairs.

  Chapter 27

  Next morning I put a platter of eggs and fried bread in the middle of the table. I didn’t squeeze between Larry and Duncan but walked round the table and leant between Larry and Sam on the other side.

  I hadn’t put a skirt on today; the last thing I wanted was Duncan acting like he had yesterday. Duncan and I had lived in a sexual desert for ages – or if not a desert then a pretty dried up and withered garden. We were lucky if we had sex once a fortnight. Although I don’t know why I use the word ‘lucky’, it didn’t feel lucky, more like part of the day-to-day routine of Backwoods.

  It hadn’t always been like that – we’d been pretty good together for years before Sam came along. We’d kept the whole thing going longer than you’d expect afterwards, too, considering the pressures we were under. But eventually every aspect of our lives got ground down and tired and it became easier not to bother most of the time. I didn’t want him taking a renewed interest in me now. That would be too complicated, much, much too complicated.

  I had my jeans on but I’d worn a T-shirt again. I was going to chuck my baggy old jumpers. I should have done it years ago. I had two – one with Monet’s poppies on the front and another with Van Gogh’s bright yellow sunflowers. I hardly wore the sunflower one anyway; I only put it on when I really needed Sam to leave me alone. I’d always felt mean about that, but I was so exhilarated at the moment I couldn’t imagine ever feeling the need to put it on again.

  I had the urge to go into town and buy myself something new, something flattering, something that made me look as good as I felt.

  First though I had to tear myself back to reality. It had been a life-changing weekend, unforgettable, one I’d like to relive again and again but now it was Monday morning and I had to pull myself together and do some real-life stuff, like sorting out schoolwork for Sam.

  He was wearing those great big sunglasses and had his notebook and pen at the table again. He had finished his Weetabix and was staring at everyone and making more notes – or observations as he called them. What was he observing now?

  Larry was munching through his fried bread and egg and he kept casting me the odd glance and a smile. I watched his fingers wrap around his mug and my stomach flipped. I hadn’t thought about sex for years – not over the breakfast table anyway – but now I could hardly think about anything else.

  ‘I’m taking a couple of bull calves to the auction, do you want to come?’ Duncan was looking at Larry. He polished his plate with a half slice of fried bread and shoved it all in his mouth at once.

  Larry shook his head. ‘Nah, Pal.’

  ‘Might nip in the Dragon after,’ said Duncan, raising his eyebrows – obviously thinking he was making an offer no man could refuse.

  ‘Nah,’ said Larry, ‘I’d better get more sorting done outside so I can plant out later in the week.’

  Duncan nodded and I caught Larry’s eye. I knew we were both thinking the same thing; this was a chance to be on our own.

  Larry asked Sam: ‘What you up to today?’

  It was difficult to see Sam’s expression behind his glasses but he said: ‘I am working on my “Field Notes”. They will sharpen my observational skills, cut down on the unpredictability of life and help me make a discovery.’

  Larry nodded.

  ‘And what have you observed today exactly?’ cut in Duncan.

  Sam consulted his notebook.

  ‘I have made four observations about three people over one meal that lasted twenty-three minutes and involved six eggs, twelve halves of fried bread, two mugs of tea and one cup of coffee.’

  Duncan swilled his dregs round his cup. ‘Aye? Like what?’

  ‘Number one: my mother has a different T-shirt on today.’

  I froze, but thank God, he sailed straight on.

  ‘Number two, Larry can eat three fried eggs and six h
alves of fried bread without being sick or burning his throat.’

  Larry nodded. ‘Yep, that sounds about right.’

  ‘Number three, my dad takes ten gulps of tea to finish his mug. Number four, my mother has eaten no breakfast at all. Number five, Larry is one inch taller than my dad. Number six, my dad’s shoulders are two inches wider than Larry’s and his hands are one and a half times as big.’

  There was an awkward pause as Sam consulted his pad then laid his pencil down. ‘Unfortunately I do not think these observations are sufficient to make a significant discovery, like it said on the internet.’

  ‘No, I think you’ve got a bit of work to do yet, lad,’ said Duncan.

  Sam shut his notebook, slipped off his chair and went upstairs.

  ‘Can you give us a hand getting them calves in the back of the Land Rover?’ said Duncan.

  ‘Aye,’ Larry said, ‘no bother.’ He finished his tea and stood up. ‘Thanks, Alice.’

  They vanished outside and I was left with the usual pile of greasy pots, but I didn’t mind. Today I could scrape cold food into the bin and wash pots and stack plates without bothering. I could do anything because Duncan was going out and Sam was doing his schoolwork and I was going to be on my own with Larry. I cleared up, singing The Lambada again.

  I trotted upstairs to make sure Sam was busy and likely to stay busy. I tapped on his door and pushed it open six inches.

  ‘You busy, Sam?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What you doing?’

  ‘Field Notes.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ I hesitated. ‘Still?’

  Sam did not reply.

  ‘It’s like doing research, I suppose?’ I said.

  ‘It’s Field Notes.’

  I waited. ‘Okay then.’

  ‘I must practise very hard,’ he said, looking up from his laptop, ‘because seeing is not observing.’

  ‘Okay. Right, so you’ve got lots to do then,’ I said.

  ‘Observing is much more than seeing and I need more observations for my Field Notes. Then I can make a significant discovery.’

  ‘Well, you work on that till lunchtime, all right?’ I was backing out of the room. ‘I’ll have lunch ready at half twelve as usual. Okay?’

  Sam nodded. His eyes fixed on his notebook.

  ‘Right, well, you keep yourself busy.’

  I was already out on the landing and I quickly pulled his door closed.

  I flew round the kitchen putting the rest of the stuff away. When Duncan went out he’d be gone for about three hours – and if he ended up in the pub it’d be even longer – and Sam wouldn’t come down until half twelve for his lunch. I looked at my watch: that was three hours with Larry all to myself.

  Out of the kitchen window I watched Larry and Duncan at the bottom of the yard driving a couple of calves towards the back of the Land Rover. Duncan was saying something and they were both laughing.

  Duncan wasn’t a bad person even though he did some daft things. I felt bad watching him being friendly with Larry but he wasn’t going to find out. He’d never know. I’d lived a pretty lonely and miserable life here for the past few years and it was about time something good happened to me.

  Larry and Duncan lifted a calf each and put them in the back of the Land Rover, then Larry grabbed Bess’s collar to stop her jumping in and he slammed the Land Rover door. He rubbed Bess’s ears and she sat at his feet and wagged her tail.

  They stood talking another minute – it must have been about the polytunnel because I could see Duncan pointing and gesticulating. Larry leant against the barn wall and took out a fag and lit it. There was something sexy about the way he dragged on his cigarette, half closing his eyes. I liked to watch him smoking. I liked to watch him doing anything really. I thought about yesterday and my stomach tightened. Was Duncan never going to leave?

  After another couple of minutes Duncan climbed in the Land Rover and pulled out of the yard. Larry watched him drive out of the gate and down the lane, and then he dropped his fag, ground it out and walked towards the farmhouse.

  I listened at the foot of the stairs. There was no sound from Sam; he must be doing his foot notes or his case studies or whatever they were.

  I was usually pretty good with his schooling but I’d been slacking this past week or two. I’d been distracted; I admitted it, but I’d got years of dedication in the bank. They must count for something. At least he’d decided about these field note things himself so it must be something he was really interested in. They’d keep him busy and out of trouble till lunchtime. Bound to.

  I heard the latch and spun round. Larry poked his head round the door and smiled at me.

  ‘You busy?’

  I laughed and ran to the door. Larry grabbed my hand and we walked outside. A leaf quivered on the yard then caught by the breeze it cartwheeled ahead. Taking care not to let the latch rattle, I closed the door silently behind us.

  Chapter 28

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  Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Truestory

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.36

  Can I observe everything I need in my bedroom?

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  DiamondSky

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.38

  Play computer games – you learn everything! I learned what a mortar and pestle was by playing Jade Cocoon when I had to make potions. The Sims taught me the Importance of fire alarms and burglar alarms – plus how to use the 24 hour clock. It’s all these little random things you learn by gaming.

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Fizzy Mascara

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.42

  This is a difficult question because the internet is full of real people – you are interacting with them not actually with computers.

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Sweet Cheeks

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.45

  I learned everything I know about cars from my boyfriends Gran Turismo. Which is not much!!

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  DiamondSky

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.48

  Too right, Sweet Cheeks, I learned how to wield a sword, how to concoct a spell and how to fly a dragon on Skyrim. Cool!!

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Root Toot

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.50

  Computer games are just for fun – life is for living. Get out of your bedroom and live it, Truestory.

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Razzamatazz68

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.51

  Time spent on the computer can be useful but it can be highly addictive. People get addicted mostly to cybersex and online gambling. Consider if this is you, Truestory, and if it is back away now and go for a dose of real life. You know – somewhere outside your bedroom!

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Truestory

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time: 9.52

  I have considered it and I am not addicted to cybersex or online gambling. But observing the world from my bedroom is not a good way to make Field Notes. I may have to go for a dose of real life even though I told my mum I would be in my bedroom doing Field Notes until lunchtime.

  Re: Is it possible to learn everything I need to know on the computer?

  Razzamatazz68

  Date: 16 June 2014

  Time
: 9.53

  That’s good Truestory. Online stuff is fine but there’s nothing like interaction with the REAL WORLD. Your mum will be delighted to get you away from the computer. Give her a nice surprise!

  Chapter 29

  We were back in our white plastic bubble. The sacks were already warmed by the morning sun, and the breeze, which was picking up around the tunnel, created a wall of sound – a barrier against the world. Although we had well over two hours and weren’t in a hurry there was a sense of urgency.

  Larry kissed me and pulled my T-shirt out of my jeans.

  ‘Slow down,’ I said. ‘We’ve got ages.’

  But he didn’t slow down; he slid the T-shirt over my head and we lay back on the sacks. He undid my jeans and I wriggled side to side to help him get them off. He kissed me hard and I wound my arms around his neck and, despite the plastic sacks sticking to my back and the white tunnel stretching over my head and the incessant clattering of the wind, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  He stroked my face.

  ‘I’m falling for you, Alice,’ he said.

  I kissed his neck. ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  I closed them and felt his stubbly face kissing between my breasts and his tongue running down to my belly button. I was trying to be serious – a serious, proper lover – but it tickled and I laughed and opened my eyes. I gazed upward and saw, inches from my face, the shadow of a hand pressing on the outside of the polytunnel. It was white and ghostly, with spread fingers, as though it was reaching down for me.

  For a split second I thought of people in prison touching opposite sides of the glass when they weren’t allowed to hold hands. I stared and held my breath. Then the hand disappeared. I stifled a scream and pushed Larry off and scrabbled around for my clothes, hissing:

  ‘. . . there’s somebody . . . for God’s sake . . . there’s somebody . . .’