Stand by Me

by S. D. Robertson

  He realised that the copy was probably littered with mistakes, but that didn’t matter. He could address those later. The important thing was that he had something down at last. He’d made a start.

  Unfortunately, thanks to his son’s interruption breaking his focus, the last few sentences didn’t come as easily. Mike got there eventually, but at the expense of making that fresh cup of tea he’d asked Ben to put the kettle on for. The stone-cold one next to him looked even less appetising than it had previously, the milk forming a dandelion puff-ball image on the tan surface.

  He was mulling over a working title – something he’d thought about plenty of times before but never settled on – when his eyes drifted across the screen, landing on the text Document1. Shit. That meant he’d not saved it yet. In his rush to do so, Mike’s right hand jerked forward, catching the handle of the mug next to him on the table and spilling its entire contents all over the laptop keyboard.

  The fact that Ben raced down the stairs, wondering what the hell was going on, was testament to the amount of shouting, swearing and table thumping that went on.

  When he entered the kitchen, his father was directing his anger at the kitchen sink, shaking the laptop over it while frantically wiping the keyboard with a fistful of kitchen towel.

  ‘Dad, what’s happening?’

  ‘What does it bloody look like, Ben?’

  ‘Like you’ve lost your mind.’

  ‘I’ve spilled tea all over the keyboard. I didn’t save what I was doing. I’m in a mess, in case you hadn’t noticed. Can you help?’

  Mike thrust the laptop into Ben’s open arms. ‘You’re good with computers, aren’t you? Can you rescue it? The screen went all weird and then turned off. Now I can’t get it to do anything. I didn’t save—’

  ‘Yeah, you said that already. Let me have a look.’

  He placed the laptop back on the kitchen table and took a seat. ‘Can I have some more of that kitchen towel?’ He raised his left hand and held it there until Mike passed him the depleted roll.

  Mike stood behind him, grinding his teeth, his hands gripping the back of the chair. He watched Ben dab, poke and prod the laptop, praying that he’d miraculously make it whir back into life. But as the minutes passed and Ben tried various things, from removing the battery and messing around with the mains cable, to pressing certain key combin-ations, Mike started to lose faith.

  ‘It’s not happening, is it?’ he said when he could hold it in no longer. ‘It’s totally dead, right?’

  ‘No luck so far. What was it you had on there that you hadn’t saved?’

  Mike pressed his palms on to his cheeks, rubbing them up against his stubble and letting out a long sigh. ‘Don’t worry about it, son. It was a pipe dream. Clearly it wasn’t meant to happen.’

  ‘We could try putting it in a warm place, like the airing cupboard. It might be fine once it dries out. And even if the laptop itself is broken, that’s not to say we won’t be able to recover what’s on the hard disk.’

  ‘Including the file I was working on? Even though I didn’t save it?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Ben replied. But his face said otherwise.

  He patted his son on the back. ‘Don’t worry. Thanks for your help. It’s my own stupid fault. I think I’m going to head out for that run now. You’re not planning to go out anywhere, are you?’

  Ben shook his head.

  ‘Great. Keep an eye out for your sister until I get back, will you?’

  ‘Sure. You said she was at Saima’s, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you okay, Dad? You look—’

  ‘Oh, I’m great, son. I’m fandabidozi!’

  Mike left a puzzled-looking Ben in the kitchen and trudged upstairs to change into his running kit, desperate to inflict some pain on himself by pounding the pavement.

  A single thought ran through his head over and over again: once a loser, always a loser.

  CHAPTER 29

  THEN

  Tuesday, 14 February 1995

  Lisa raced down the stairs as soon as she heard the letterbox, making sure to get there before her mum or Jamie.

  To her delight, among the various letters addressed to her parents were three red envelopes with her name on the front. She grabbed them, ditching the rest of the post on the doormat, and ran back upstairs, shutting her bedroom door behind her.

  A moment later it swung open again and her brother was standing there, smirking.

  Lisa tried to hide the envelopes behind her back, but she wasn’t quick enough.

  ‘Has someone been getting love letters on Valentine’s Day?’ he said in a sing-song voice.

  ‘Get lost, Jamie.’ She snatched at the nearest thing she could find – a hairbrush – and threw it at him, only for him to close the door in the nick of time, avoiding it.

  Not that this kept him away. He opened it again a second later, grinning like the village idiot.

  Jamie was also now at secondary school. He’d taken the exam for King George’s but hadn’t made the cut. So he’d gone to Waterside instead, the local comprehensive, and was now more than halfway through his first year there. As a result, his and Lisa’s holidays didn’t always match. But this half-term they both had the same week off.

  At least the main sport at Waterside was football, which Jamie was still very keen on. That said, his confidence had taken a bit of a knock after discovering he was no longer the best player on the pitch, as he had been at primary school.

  Lisa hadn’t heard him talk about wanting to go pro for some time now, although their dad seemed to have a harder time letting go of the dream. He was often on his son’s back to practise more and he rarely missed a match – whether a school fixture or for the club Jamie played at on weekends.

  He was one of those annoyingly vocal parents who would spend most of the time bellowing advice to the players or berating the referee. Lisa knew from personal experience of him watching her play hockey. She’d eventually asked him not to come any more, confessing that she found it embarrassing and off-putting. Luckily, he hadn’t taken offence, probably because it freed him up to watch more of Jamie’s football.

  Her brother was now singing Boyzone’s “Love Me for a Reason” in her doorway in a ridiculous high voice. Lisa gave him her death stare. ‘Why can’t you leave me alone? Just because you haven’t got any Valentine’s cards.’

  ‘Who says I haven’t?’ Jamie replied, stopping his stupid singing. ‘I found one slipped into my locker at school on Friday, actually. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.’

  What? Where the hell did he pick up these sayings?

  ‘To be honest, Jamie, I really don’t care. But if you don’t go away and give me some privacy, I’m calling Mum.’

  ‘Ooh, not that,’ he replied, quivering like a jelly in a way that almost made Lisa crack a smile. ‘Anything but that!’

  Reminding herself that she was annoyed with him, and laughing would only encourage more nonsense, Lisa said: ‘I warned you. Muuum! Jamie’s winding me up again. Can you get him to leave me alone?’

  He scampered off back to his own bedroom. So when Christine appeared halfway up the stairs, he was nowhere in sight.

  ‘What’s the matter, Lisa?’ she asked, running a hand through her hair. ‘I was trying to catch up on some marking. What are you two squabbling about now?’

  Christine had recently started teaching Junior Three at Aldham Primary. Previously, she’d been a Junior One teacher at another school around ten miles away. She’d avoided teaching at the same school that Lisa and Jamie attended, as she didn’t think it was fair on them to have their mum around all the time. However, she had always wanted to teach at her local primary and – as luck would have it – a vacancy had arisen to start there last September, right after Jamie had left.

  It was the first time she’d ever taught that particular year group, which meant she’d had to do more work from home than usual as she found her feet. She looked tired this morning and Lisa f
elt bad for calling her.

  ‘It’s all right, Mum. He’s gone now, but he was doing his usual – winding me up.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s fine.’

  Christine sighed. ‘I do wish the pair of you would make an effort to get along better. I thought you’d have grown out of this constant quarrelling by now.’

  ‘It’s never me that starts it,’ Lisa protested. ‘If he’d leave me alone, rather than coming in my room and annoying me all the time, there wouldn’t be any rows.’

  ‘Maybe your brother likes spending time with you. Have you thought about that? It would be nice if you gave him the time of day once in a while.’

  ‘You always take his side. It’s so not fair.’

  ‘I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m piggy in the middle, as usual.’ As if to prove this, Christine trudged up the remaining stairs and knocked on Jamie’s bedroom door before going inside and having a word with him.

  Lisa didn’t hang around to listen to what was said. Instead she shut herself in her own room and concentrated on the exciting task of opening her Valentine’s cards.

  That afternoon, on her way to the village shop to buy a magazine – either Sugar or Just Seventeen, depending on which issue looked best – Lisa passed Elliot’s home and bumped into his mum. She was unpacking food shopping from the boot of her car.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ Wendy said with that lovely smile of hers.

  ‘Hi, Wendy. How are you?’

  ‘I’m very well, thanks. And you?’

  ‘I’m good.’

  ‘What about Jamie and your parents?’

  ‘Yes, they’re all fine, thank you.’

  ‘Doing anything exciting over half-term?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve got loads of homework to keep me busy.’

  ‘Yes, Elliot says the same. They work you hard at those schools of yours. Why don’t you come in for a cuppa? You’ve not been round for ages. I know Elliot would be glad to see you.’

  ‘Um.’ Lisa hesitated. Things between her and Elliot hadn’t been great recently, which was why she hadn’t been to his house for a bit. But maybe now was a good time to bury the hatchet.

  ‘Go on,’ Wendy said. ‘Listen, I know you two had a bit of a falling out. Elliot told me. But I also know that he misses you, as do I. What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Brilliant. Now make yourself useful.’ She handed Lisa a couple of the shopping bags and they headed inside together.

  ‘Elliot!’ Wendy called from the kitchen, winking at Lisa. ‘We’ve got a visitor.’

  ‘Who is it?’ his voice replied from afar – presumably up in his bedroom.

  ‘Oh, just a gorgeous girl I spotted walking by.’

  ‘Are you winding me up again, Mum?’

  ‘No, I’m serious.’ Wendy turned to Lisa. ‘Why don’t you pop upstairs and say hi while I unpack the shopping and make us that brew. Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please.’

  ‘I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.’

  Lisa felt itchy and out of breath as she climbed the stairs, the patterned red carpet somehow looking more garish and old-fashioned than she remembered. She’d been up and down here countless times previously, but not for a while. Even before she and Elliot had their argument, she hadn’t been to his house for some time. That was part of the problem.

  Her mind jumped back to that snowy day near the end of the Christmas holidays, when Elliot had been the visitor in her house – her bedroom.

  ‘Why don’t we go outside and build a snowman?’ Elliot suggested. ‘It’s beautiful out there.’

  ‘Aren’t we a bit old for that?’ Lisa concentrated on filing her nails from her sprawled-out position on the bed.

  ‘Who cares? It’s fun. Or we could have a snowball fight, if you prefer.’

  ‘No thanks, El. I’d rather stay here in the warm. But don’t let me stop you. I’m sure Jamie would be up for joining in.’

  She looked up when her friend didn’t answer and saw that he had his back to her, staring wistfully out of the window.

  ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Yep,’ he replied.

  ‘I won’t be offended if that’s what you want to do.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Have I said something wrong? You look annoyed.’

  Elliot sighed. ‘You don’t seem to want to do things together any more, that’s all. We always used to be outside having fun. Now the only time I see you is on the bus and when I come round here. When was the last time you called to see me at my house?’

  Lisa wasn’t sure how to reply. It was a fair point.

  ‘Where’s this coming from?’ was the best she could come up with – a feeble attempt at deflection.

  ‘You don’t seem to have time for me like you used to. You’re always off playing sport or out with someone else.’

  Lisa sat up. ‘Sean, you mean? He’s my boyfriend, Elliot. What do you expect? I know you don’t like him, but—’

  ‘So you’re going out with him again, are you? On, off. It’s hard to keep up.’

  ‘Yes I am, as you know. And we’ve only split up twice.’

  ‘And why was that again? Oh yeah, because you found out that he’d cheated on you twice – that you know of – and both times you went running back to him. I bet you’d build a snowman if he asked you.’

  ‘You’ve never liked Sean. That’s been obvious from the start. Yes, he’s made some mistakes, but I love him – and as my friend you should accept that. I know he’s not like you; that he’s into rugby and stuff. But so is Neil Walsh and you’ve always been friends with him.’

  Elliot screwed up his face. ‘Um, you’re comparing Sean to Neil? They’re like chalk and cheese. Rugby is about the only thing they have in common, apart from …’

  ‘Apart from what? Go on, say it.’

  ‘Apart from you.’

  ‘As I recall, you didn’t particularly like me going out with Neil either.’

  Elliot shook his head and turned away, so he was looking out of the window again. He let out a long sigh. ‘So it’s all my fault, is it? Of course. I should have known.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re even having a go at me for playing sport, just because you’re useless at it. Pardon me for having a life. Maybe you should get one too.’

  As soon as the words had left Lisa’s mouth, she regretted them, but it was too late.

  Elliot’s deep blue eyes widened with rage behind his glasses. ‘So we’re being brutally honest here, are we? Fine. You’re right. I’ve never liked Sean, even before the cheating. I think he’s a mindless cretin, like his pal Samo. You thought he was an idiot too once, like when he forced my head down a toilet. I used to think that Sean wasn’t good enough for you. But now I’m not so sure. Maybe he’s exactly what you deserve. You’re welcome to each other.’

  And with that, he stormed out.

  As she stood at Elliot’s bedroom door, taking a second to compose herself, Lisa could still picture how her friend’s face had looked that day in early January. They’d not seen each other or spoken again until a few days later, when they’d returned to school, and they’d never properly made up.

  Lisa supposed she’d been waiting for Elliot to say sorry, which he never had. Perhaps she should have been the one to offer an olive branch.

  It wasn’t that they’d ignored each other after that. Things had just cooled between them. They’d only interacted when necessary and not made any effort to see each other at all outside their bus journeys.

  It had been obvious to those around them that something had changed, but Lisa for one had never discussed it with anyone. Especially not Sean, who she’d now broken up with – for good this time – after learning that he’d been two-timing her yet again.

  On this occasion it was with some skank neighbour of his, since well before Christmas, apparently. According to Lisa’s hockey pal Hayley, he’d even bought them the same che
ap perfume as a gift. After learning this, Lisa had hurled her bottle out of her bedroom window, only to be ordered to clear up the broken glass by her dad. It smelled disgusting anyway.

  She wondered if Elliot knew about Sean. Surely he did. If anything, the disastrous way that had unfolded was one of the reasons Lisa hadn’t apologised to him, because she was embarrassed that he’d been right all along. It seemed so stupid now she thought about it.

  She took a deep breath and tapped gently on his door.

  ‘Come in.’

  Lisa offered a bashful smile as their eyes met.

  Elliot was at his desk. He was hunched over the keyboard of the computer Wendy had bought him for Christmas – the monitor displaying line after line of what looked like gibberish to Lisa. He’d told her about this gift, which he’d been shocked and over the moon to receive, but she’d never actually seen it before. She was sure he’d also mentioned what type it was, but she couldn’t remember the name.

  She and computers didn’t get along. Unlike Elliot, whose favourite class at school was Computer Studies. He’d been dying to have his own machine for as long as Lisa could remember. It was a second-hand model, which Wendy had bought via his computer teacher at school, but they still didn’t come cheap. By the looks of things, he was definitely making the most of it.

  ‘Surprise!’ Lisa said. She found herself doing jazz hands in a bizarre and desperate bid to make light of the moment.

  Elliot gave her a blank stare, before bursting into laughter. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  She laughed too. ‘What can I say? I needed an icebreaker.’

  Somehow the mere fact of her being back in Elliot’s bedroom made all the difference. After a couple of minutes, any remaining awkwardness between them had lifted. They were back to chatting like they always had.

  Lisa, feeling guilty now that she hadn’t called round of her own accord, was the first to offer an apology.

  ‘Listen, El. I’m really sorry how things have been between us since that stupid row. It was wrong of me to say what I did and you were right what you told me: particularly the bit about Sean.’