Stand by Me

by S. D. Robertson

  ‘You look like you’re growing a beard,’ she told her son. ‘Does this mean you’re going to let it get all long and bushy over the holidays?’

  ‘Don’t be embarrassing, Mum,’ he said. ‘I just didn’t fancy shaving today. Anyway, what’s wrong with a beard? Dad usually has one.’

  ‘Do I?’ Mike piped up, getting involved at last and rubbing his dense stubble with the palm of his right hand. ‘I don’t plan it that way. I see it more like a by-product of not shaving.’

  ‘Who made the scrambled eggs?’ Ben asked before digging in.

  ‘Guess,’ Lisa replied, eyeing the others and placing her right forefinger in front of her mouth.

  Ben chewed for a few seconds, screwing his eyes up in mock concentration, before declaring: ‘Definitely Dad.’

  This made Mike chuckle. ‘How did you guess?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Your scrambled eggs are better than Mum’s. Sorry, Mum, but they are. It’s about the only thing Dad cooks better than you, so don’t take it to heart. But he does make delicious scrambled eggs. Can I have the ketchup, Chloe?’

  ‘Please,’ Lisa chipped in. ‘Manners cost nothing.’

  ‘Fine. Please, if it’s not too much trouble, could you pass the ketchup, sister dear?’

  She did as he asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ben said. ‘And, darling Chloe, would you mind please talking a little less? All your chitter-chatter is hurting my ears.’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Mike said, leaning over and planting a kiss on his daughter’s head. ‘You know she needs her fuel in the mornings to get going. Do you like my scrambled eggs too, love?’

  Chloe nodded, her mouth full from her last bite. Then when her mouth was empty, she said: ‘But Mum’s are nice too.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ Lisa replied.

  ‘Creep,’ Mike and Ben said in unison. ‘Jinx,’ Ben added first, making everyone laugh.

  Mike started talking about some cricket match to Ben, who played along and joined in the discussion, although Lisa suspected he wasn’t particularly interested. She was glad to see her son in such jovial spirits for once. He’d been very moody of late, but this morning the cloud seemed to have lifted – or rather shifted to his sister.

  Chloe clearly wasn’t in the mood for talking at all. She was on the cusp of becoming a teenager, so this wasn’t too surprising. Lisa wondered if it was anything to do with her friend Holly, whose house she’d stayed at on Friday, but she didn’t dare to ask. Somehow Chloe had already cottoned on to the fact that her mum didn’t like her (Lisa found her shifty), so any such question would simply cause her to bristle up. Consequently, she left her daughter to eat her breakfast and zoned out, enjoying a rare moment of relative peace.

  Lisa had always been a big fan of family meals: everyone sitting down together at the table and talking to one another. Sunday breakfast was a particular favourite. It was the time of the week when everyone was least likely to be in a rush to do something else. It was the right distance away from Friday afternoon and Monday morning for all four of them to be at their most relaxed, which meant less chance of an argument.

  ‘What’s for tea tonight?’ Ben asked her out of the blue.

  Lisa shook her head. ‘What? You’ve barely finished your breakfast and you’re already asking about that.’

  ‘Why not? Can we get takeaway pizza?’

  Chloe’s eyes lit up. ‘Yeah, Mum. Go on. We’ve not had that for ages.’

  ‘That’s because it’s expensive,’ Lisa replied, wishing she wasn’t always the one who had to say these things. ‘Plus it’s full of junk. Anyway, we’re doing something different today.’

  Both kids groaned.

  ‘Elliot’s coming to cook for us,’ she said. ‘He’ll be over mid-afternoon.’

  ‘What’s he cooking?’ Ben asked.

  ‘No idea. He said he’d bring whatever he needed with him.’

  ‘Maybe it’ll be something Australian,’ Chloe chipped in.

  Ben grinned. ‘Like kangaroo or crocodile? He might struggle to find that in Asda. Mind you, they like eating bugs and stuff over there, don’t they? Maybe we’ll have to eat live spiders or something, like a Bushtucker Trial on I’m a Celebrity.’

  ‘Yuck,’ Chloe said.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, you two. He was telling me about how much he’d missed certain English foods during his time away, so you’ll probably find it’s something familiar.’

  Mike stayed silent, neither laughing nor joining in with the banter. He’d been pleasant enough to El yesterday; Lisa really hoped that wasn’t about to change.

  ‘G’day, cobber,’ Elliot said in an exaggerated Australian accent as Lisa opened the front door.

  It was just before 3 p.m. and, after a dry but overcast morning, it had started to spit with rain.

  Lisa greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come on in before you get too wet.’

  Elliot, holding a large brown paper bag in one arm, stepped inside, wiping his shoes on the doormat. ‘How are you going?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. You?’

  ‘Great. Shame about the weather, but. And there’s stupid old me planning a traditional Aussie barbie.’ His eyes shot wide open. ‘Hold on. You have got a barbecue, right? And somewhere under cover where I can cook?’

  Leading him through to the kitchen, Lisa winced. ‘We do, but I’m not sure we have any, um, charcoal or—’

  His tanned face broke into a smile and he gave her an affectionate squeeze with his free arm. ‘Don’t worry, Lisa. I’m pulling your leg. I’ve gone for a traditional English roast, instead. When in Rome.’

  ‘I can’t believe I fell for that. A roast sounds lovely. What meat have you gone for?’

  ‘Beef, naturally. I know it’s usually more of a winter meal, but I thought: what the hell. It’s not exactly summery weather, is it?’ He wrinkled up his nose. ‘And if I’m totally honest, it’s what I fancied, being back here and all.’

  ‘Where did you go shopping?’ Lisa asked, puzzled by the paper bag.

  ‘Details, details,’ he replied with a flamboyant wave of his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s get going. If you could give me a quick walkthrough where everything is and how the oven and hobs work, then you can leave me to it.’

  ‘I’m happy to lend a hand.’

  ‘No need, although I’d love to have your company and maybe the odd cup of tea along the way. Where’s everyone else?’

  ‘The kids are up in their rooms and Mike’s, um … well, I’m not sure where he is, to be honest.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Everything all right? I’m not stepping on any toes, am I?’

  ‘No, don’t be silly. It’s lovely of you to come and cook for us like this.’

  The next hour or so flew by as Elliot whipped around the kitchen like a pro, refusing any help and yet still finding time to chat, while deftly avoiding answering anything too probing about himself.

  ‘You’ve certainly progressed from burning beans on toast,’ Lisa told him.

  ‘I enjoy cooking,’ he replied. ‘I took some classes when I first got my own place.’

  ‘I thought single guys were all about microwave meals, takeaways and eating out.’

  ‘Not this one.’

  ‘What about the extra numbers?’

  ‘What, cooking for five?’ He looked at Lisa, who at his insistence was sitting out of the way at the kitchen table, and slowly shook his head. ‘Just because I’m single and don’t have any children, that doesn’t mean I’m some kind of loser with no friends.’

  ‘No, I didn’t—’

  He winked. ‘I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry.’

  ‘No, it looks and smells fantastic, honestly. Sorry, I feel bad now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m not used to a man who’s quite so handy around the kitchen. You remember what my dad was like. He could barely cook oven chips.’

  ‘And Mike? Doesn’t he like to—’

  She shook her head but said nothing as she heard someone coming dow
n the stairs. Chloe and Ben had both popped in at different points to greet their visitor; Mike had been conspicuous by his absence. According to Ben, he’d gone out for a run – something he rarely ever did these days – but he’d not told her anything about this, nor said hello or goodbye when he’d slipped out and back in again through the front door. Now he walked into the kitchen fresh out of the shower, hair still wet and wearing a clean polo shirt and shorts.

  ‘How are we doing?’ he said, avoiding Lisa’s eye as he headed straight for the fridge.

  ‘Hello, Mike,’ Elliot replied, throwing him a warm smile and standing to one side. ‘Sorry to impose myself on you again.’

  ‘You’re all right. Beer?’

  ‘Only if you’re having one.’

  Mike removed two bottles of Heineken from the fridge, opened them and handed one to Elliot before asking Lisa if she wanted anything, which she didn’t.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she asked.

  ‘For a run.’

  Lisa tried to convey to him with probing eyes that this was unusual. ‘Yes, Ben told me. But where did you go?’

  ‘Smells good,’ he said to Elliot rather than answering her.

  ‘Thanks. Hopefully it’ll taste even better.’ He raised his bottle of beer. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to stay and chat for a bit?’ Lisa asked, widening her eyes at him.

  He avoided her gaze. ‘I have a couple of things to do.’

  ‘Hey, you’ll never guess who I saw earlier,’ Elliot said once they were alone again.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Peter Webber. Well, I’m ninety-nine per cent sure it was him. I passed him on the pavement walking here. I don’t think he recognised me, so I didn’t stop to chat.’

  Lisa gave him a blank look, to which he replied: ‘You know, the kid who broke my glasses the day we met. The boy I thought was my friend, who turned on me to impress Johnny and Carl.’

  ‘Oh God, that Peter!’ Lisa said, raising a hand to her mouth. ‘Does he still live in the village? I wouldn’t know him from Adam.’

  Elliot shrugged before opening the oven door, prodding the meat and turning some of the vegetables. Then he walked over to the table and leaned on the back of one of the seats. ‘Do you remember what you did to him for me?’

  ‘How could I forget?’

  CHAPTER 13

  THEN

  Friday, 23 August 1991

  Elliot hadn’t seen Peter since the day, just over a fortnight earlier, when he’d so cruelly stomped on his glasses. He’d probably been away on holiday, judging by the tan he’d picked up in the meantime.

  Elliot spotted him from Lisa’s bedroom window. He was walking along the street, wearing shorts and a Manchester United shirt.

  ‘Bastard,’ he muttered.

  ‘Who’s a bastard?’ Lisa asked, looking up from painting her toenails on the bed.

  ‘Oh, no one.’ He’d not yet told his new friend about Peter’s involvement in the incident.

  ‘So you shout that out of the window at everyone who walks past?’

  ‘I didn’t shout. And the window’s closed, so he won’t have heard me.’

  Stuff it, Elliot thought. He told Lisa everything – and was surprised at the ferocity of her reaction.

  ‘What? He really is a bastard! Why didn’t you mention this before? We’re going after him.’

  ‘What about your nai—’

  ‘They can wait.’ She wiped the wet bits away with a tissue and grabbed some socks.

  Outside it was overcast but dry and warm.

  ‘Which way did he go?’

  Elliot felt somewhere in between nervous and excited about what Lisa had planned. ‘He looked like he was heading towards Vicky Lane.’

  ‘Perfect. Come on.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘I’ll work that out when we catch up with him.’

  As it turned out, that didn’t happen until they were a good way down the lane, at a point where the track was more dirt than tarmac; well past the scene of Elliot’s humiliation, which still stung every time he walked by. This far down, Vicky Lane was often impassable after heavy rain, when it became a water-logged mud bath. But the weather had been kind for the past week, so today it was fine.

  ‘There he is,’ Elliot said, pointing to a figure a hundred yards or so ahead of them, who was leaning forward at the side of the track, hands on his knees and panting. ‘He must have been running. That explains how he got so far ahead.’

  ‘Do you think he was running from us?’

  Elliot shook his head. ‘He likes running. He was the fastest at school and he’s in some kind of athletics club. Best not challenge him to a race, like you did the other two, because you might not win.’

  Lisa frowned. ‘No faith in me, have you? Don’t worry, that’s not what I have in mind for Peter. He doesn’t look much, does he? He’s all skin and bone; definitely shorter than I am.’ She nodded. ‘Good.’

  Next thing she told Elliot to hide in the undergrowth at the side of the track in a position where he could watch what happened without being seen. Meanwhile, she strode on towards Peter, who was busy doing stretches.

  Elliot crept forward through the long grass and shrubs that provided his cover, careful to stay out of sight. Once Lisa was within a couple of metres of her target, he stopped where he was, maintaining a crouch position, and waited.

  ‘Hello,’ Lisa said in a friendly voice. ‘Peter, isn’t it?’

  Peter, who’d been facing the other way, turned around with a look of surprise on his face. ‘Yes. Who are you?’

  She held out her right arm, which he met with a handshake. ‘Lisa. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Hello, Lisa. Nice to meet you too. I’m sorry but how—’

  ‘I know Johnny and Carl. You’re a friend of theirs, aren’t you?’

  He nodded gingerly. ‘Yeah, I guess. Are they around, then?’

  ‘That’s right. We’re hanging out in the field over there.’ She pointed off to the side of the track, back the way they’d come, giggled, and bit her bottom lip. ‘I saw you running past and asked them who you were.’ She placed a hand on his shoulder, maintaining eye contact. ‘You, um, seem really fit. Do you go running a lot? And how come you’re so lovely and tanned. Have you been away?’

  Elliot smiled to himself at what an outrageous flirt Lisa was being. It made her seem so much older than him: so self-confident and aware of the power she could wield over unsuspecting boys. It was clear that Peter, whose cheeks were crimson as he told her how much he liked running and how he’d just returned from a family holiday to Corfu, was already putty in her hands. He was almost drooling.

  ‘The only thing is,’ she added, ‘as I was rushing to catch up with you, I felt my favourite bracelet slip off my wrist.’ She nodded towards a patch of grass a little along from where Elliot was hiding, but on the opposite side of the track. ‘Would you mind giving me a hand finding it? I haven’t got my glasses on today and I’m useless without them.’

  What are you up to, Lisa? Elliot thought, remaining in his hiding place as he watched Peter nod and agree to look for the fictional bracelet.

  They walked over to the spot she’d indicated and both spent several minutes bent over, scouring the long, thick grass for something that wasn’t there.

  ‘Are you sure it was here that it fell off?’ Peter asked eventually.

  She looked like she was about to cry. ‘I think so. I’m pretty sure. Please don’t give up. It was a gift from my nana. I’d be heartbroken if I lost it.’

  This spurred Peter on and, as he continued to look in the grass, Lisa discretely turned to where Elliot was positioned and winked.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he mouthed.

  Her only reply was to hold a finger up to her lips and look away.

  She had Peter eating out of the palm of her hand. He was down on all fours, crawling around like a dog, while she st
ood to one side, suggesting different spots for him to try. This went on for a good ten minutes. Eventually, an exhausted Peter stood up to stretch his back and shake his legs. ‘I’m having no luck. What does it look like exactly, this bracelet?’

  ‘It’s a very thin gold chain with a small heart pendant attached. The catch is a bit dodgy, which is why I think it came off. I should have stopped straight away when I felt it fall, but I was worried you might run off before I had a chance to speak to you. I didn’t imagine it would be so difficult to find. Maybe it was a little bit further along.’

  This was enough to convince Peter to have another look; if he wondered why he was doing all the work while Lisa watched, he didn’t let on. It was all Elliot could do not to burst out laughing.

  ‘Watch out,’ she said. ‘There’s a big pile of dog muck near your right leg.’

  ‘Eww!’ he replied, shuffling away from it, then carrying on searching.

  ‘You don’t know anyone with a metal detector, do you? That might be the answer, but I’ve only recently moved to the village, so I don’t—’

  ‘Good idea. Um, I can’t think of anyone, but my parents might be able to. Would you like to come back to my house so I can ask? Dad’s at work, but Mum’s home.’

  ‘That sounds nice. But won’t your girlfriend mind? If you were my boyfriend, I know I wouldn’t like the idea of another girl going home with you.’

  A red-faced Peter, falling hook, line, and sinker for her con, said: ‘I, er, don’t have a girlfriend at the moment.’