by Bob Summer
Stuart snorted. ‘Same old thing but different words I suspect. They’re all either for or against unification. Which one is it this time?’
‘It’s trying to gain support to regionalise more laws.’ I read a line off the cover. ‘Each county should have the right to execute activists without having to wait for international permission …’
‘Bin it. It’ll never happen.’
I stopped reading aloud until I got to the bit about Basley. ‘They’ve got West Basley as an example, look.’ I tried to show him but he waved it away so I kept reading it out. ‘Basley has so many cons an entire region of the county has been taken over …’
‘Atty stop.’ Stuart took the leaflet out of my hands. ‘I just told you, it will never happen. Trust me. My mum works on this kind of stuff all the time.’
‘Well that’s all right then. She doesn’t help people like me though, remember? Who on the west is important, professional and flicking fancy enough to get her attention, eh?’ I was up in Stuart’s face, the pamphlet in my fist.
‘It won’t happen,’ he said, calm enough to make me want to slap him. ‘And some people on the west aren’t all Hot Blue and cuddles, you know. For every extreme idea on the east, there’s a matching one on the west.’ He took the pamphlet out of my hand and ripped it up. ‘The two will balance themselves out and the rest of us will find a way down the middle.’
‘Just like that.’
‘No. People like my mother, your dad, Joe, M Gee …’ he squeezed my hand, ‘you and me. Us. We’ll help make it happen.’
‘How?’
‘There’ll be a way.’ He turned and set off again at a meandering stroll. ‘I’ve been thinking. Maybe you were right and Joe knows my mother. Something about the name M Gee rings a bell. Perhaps she’s the connection. Maybe it’s all connected, Joe, your dad, my mum …’ he shrugged. ‘Like you said, it would explain why you were asked to watch me and Gemma.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It’s an idea. Not so sure where my dad fits in. I’m beginning to think he might just be a complete tool and buggered off to live somewhere happy-ever-after and write stupid leaflets in the sunshine.’
He put on a judge’s lofty voice and mused at the sky. ‘Has that idea just popped into your head or have you considered all the facts and come to a calculated conclusion?’
‘I am not calculating.’
He laughed and began staggering about the lane holding his face. ‘Ouchy. Don’t make me laugh … it hurts.’
Somehow, I’d made a twonk of myself. ‘What’s so funny?’ I said. ‘Either one of us could be right or we could both be totally wrong.’
‘Of course.’ He coughed and reached for my hand. ‘You’re right.’ His face twitched and his eyes shone. ‘I think the sun’s got to me. But remember what you agreed? Back in the park? You have to give your dad a fair hearing, okay?’
‘Humpnf.’ What else could I say?
Shepton was quaint and touristy-pretty. The hotels along the seafront were painted in pastels with striped canopies flapping above glass fronted doors. But there wasn’t going to be anything so upmarket for us. With only three hundred and fifty quid we were forced to book into a small back-street bed and breakfast with a sticky welcome mat and a beer-bottle green reception. I stood inside the door near a hand-drawn sign, FOYER, and wrinkled my nose. ‘Hums a bit.’
‘Yes. What is that?’ Stuart sniffed. ‘Smells like curried mackerel.’
Rich people ate the weirdest stuff.
A big woman in a flowered dress puffed through the door at the back of the passage. It swung back and forth on its hinge, wafting a new scent of grease and boiled cloths into the hall. ‘What can I do for you?’ She hesitated when she saw the state of my face and scowled at the back of Stuart’s head as he tried to read the faded-out price list. ‘Are you alright my lovey?’ She reached for my arm.
‘Fine thanks.’ I smiled my sweetest and girliest.
Stuart turned around and after a brief glance at his face she withdrew her arm like I’d tried to take a bite out of it. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said and put her hand on her cushiony chest. ‘What on earth has happened to the pair of you?’
Stuart smiled. ‘Rugby match.’
‘Oh thank heavens. I thought you might have brought some bother with you.’ She waddled past us to get behind the desk in the way people walked wardrobes across a bouncy carpet. She looked like a mega flowery weeble. Stuart blinked and gave her a tight smile as she raised her arm to lift the hatch. I, too, held my breath. Curried mackerel smells like fat women’s pits.
‘Just the one night please,’ said Stuart. ‘The best double you have.’ He glanced at me, his eyes were hard yet excited and oh so dirty. My face flushed and my snoofle tingled in anticipation.
We stood inside the bedroom door and looked at the grubby duvet. ‘Do you think it’s supposed to be that colour?’ I asked.
‘Greeny-grey and brown blotches with patches of yellow?’
I lifted a corner. ‘And the rest. There’s some pink under here.’
‘It’s not ideal, granted.’
I shrugged. ‘Pah, crotch rot. It’ll be okay in the dark.’
‘Is that your way of breaking it gently?’
‘What?’
‘That you don’t like it with the light on?’
That stupid grin wouldn’t get off my face. I hid it by heading for the window. ‘Not a sea view, but could be worse.’
Stuart laughed. ‘Let’s freshen up and go see if we can find the manor house. Get our bearings before dinner and then we can plan our next move.’
Such a tease. But it would be so much sweeter when we knew the kids were safe. Then we could give each other our full attention, so to speak. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘We can ask the landlady where it is. She looks like she’s been here forever.’
‘Good thinking. You ask. I’ll wait outside in the fresh air.’
A northern mile is about twice as long as a southern mile, I swear it. Three miles the woman had said, but even with my dodgy knee, and Stuart with his black and blue hip, we should have covered it in less than two hours. But it took three and the sky had darkened by the time we got there. We’d clambered across fields and streams, through woods and waste tips. A true nightmare of a walk. We were both grumpy as hell by the time we crept over a ridge to spy at the manor nestled in amongst some trees. The wall surrounding the grounds must have been almost as tall as the manor itself and was topped with rolls of razor wire, sparkling in the dying sunlight; lethal but, from where we lay, pretty, like fairy lights.
I only spotted the one entrance. ‘Big gates.’
‘Big cameras.’ Stuart sounded defeated already. ‘I wonder if they’ve got ears.’
On top of the pillars, either side of the gates, were huge black balls the size of car tyres. They looked like typical housing for high-tech security surveillance systems.
‘We’re never going to get in there.’ I said. ‘Not without an invite.’ All we could see of the manor itself were a couple of white turrets poking above the walls.
Stuart nodded towards the sun dipping behind a steep rugged hill. ‘We need to get to higher ground, so we can see over the wall and in through the windows.’
‘What good will that do?’
‘I might see Gemma. She’s close. I can feel it.’ He scurried backwards until he dropped behind a ridge and was hidden from the cameras. He started towards the hill.
I called after him. ‘Shall I watch the gates?’
‘Don’t be so bloody lazy.’
I scrambled to follow him. ‘I’m not being bloody lazy. I’ve got a bad knee.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll race you to the top.’
Hah. Nobody ever beat me on the wall at the gym. ‘You’re on.’
What most kids don’t realise is that the winning is in the selection of the route. Pick a bad one and you’ve lost before you start. And Stuart picked a bad one.
I waited at the top for him to catch up.
> ‘You cheated,’ he said. ‘You took the steps.’
‘Now, now. Don’t be a sore loser.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘So not attractive.’ He came and sat close so our thighs and arms touched and sent little mini shock waves to my toes. He put his face inches from mine and looked at my lips. I sucked them between my teeth.
He looked into my eyes and made a small breathy sound – like half pain, half frustration. ‘I’ll make you pay for that later.’
No way would I look away first. Not until he’d kissed me.
He rubbed at his hip. ‘How’s your knee?’
‘It’s fine!’
He laughed. ‘Only asked.’
He knew what he was doing to me and I wanted to slap him for it.
We looked over to the Manor. The wall stretched around the entire circumference. Only two ways of getting in - a small door embedded at the back, and the massive gates with the mega cameras at the front. A huge white mansion with towers like a palace stood bang centre of the greenest lawns I’d ever seen. The walls reflected the sunlight and almost shone, giving it the effect of a fairy-tale castle. Had it been pink I’d have sworn we’d slipped into La La land. The grounds spread wide and well organised with neat borders of colourful flowers and small clumps of bushes and trees. They all looked expertly cared for. ‘Are you sure this is it?’ I said. ‘I can’t see any ponies or go-karts or any of that other stuff from the brochure.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Ain’t that a surprise?’
‘What do you suppose it is? Looks pretty quiet. And so … clean. Definitely not a school.’
Stuart wiped his upper lip. ‘All the blinds are drawn.’
I’d learned to recognise the lip-swipe as habit, something he did without thinking when he concentrated or got nervous. I shrugged. ‘So? The blinds are drawn. Not sure what that might mean.’
‘No. Nor me.’
We waited for something to happen. There were no people in the grounds, no deliveries, no gardeners – there must be gardeners sometimes – no movement of any kind. I’d heard people crave peace and quiet but any long spells of silence made me nervous. Sinister things happen in the quiet - bad things never shout. But I was tired and hungry and fed up so my instincts weren’t to be trusted. I saw no reason to stress Stuart out more than he already was. ‘Doesn’t look too bad.’
He sighed. ‘No. Doesn’t feel good though. But there’s nothing to see, come on. Let’s go back to the digs. It’s going to take us hours to find our way. Perhaps there’s an easier route.’
Perhaps, but it didn’t feel like we’d found it. My knee throbbed and burned something awful by the time we hobbled back into Shepton. I needed a bath and something to eat. The long walk after a sleepless night on the train made me exhausted and snappy. ‘There’d better be some hot water.’ Stuart stepped into a chemist and spent a small fortune on toothbrushes and replacing the lotions that we’d lost in the backpack. I wasn’t just knackered out but unreasonable and difficult. ‘You binned a load of that stuff in the hotel.’
‘I couldn’t carry it all and if I had, it would have been in my bag.’
Logic held no weight with such a moody bitch as me. ‘It’s still a waste of money.’
‘You don’t want any then?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
When we got to our room, Stuart made me sit in the chair by the window. ‘I’m going to scrub the tub out and run you a bath.’
I felt like he wanted to make me feel bad and it worked. ‘It’s my turn to do it for you.’
‘You just sit there,’ he said, waving a finger in a mock rollocking, ‘and do as you’re told.’ And then he bent down and kissed the top of my head. I turned my face towards him but he’d moved away and into the bathroom. I felt cold with disappointment and, for some reason, guilty to the point of being angry at everything. Confused I suppose.
The water wrapped me up, bone-warming hot, and Stuart’s potions soothed every bit as well as they had the first time. When I closed my eyes and shut out the grime of the grubby little bathroom, it felt like I was being cuddled and cared for like a precious child. Only one thing spoilt it and that was thinking of Stuart sitting in the shabby bedroom waiting for his chance to soothe his wounds. That hip looked horrible.
‘Sorry I took so long,’ I said climbing under the multi-coloured duvet wrapped in a bath towel. ‘It just felt soooo gooood.’
‘No problem. I won’t be long. Keep the bed warm.’
Like I needed asking.
Next thing, Stuart was leaning over me and shaking my shoulder. ‘Atty. I’ve got us something to eat.’ I sat up and gripped the damp towel to my chest. ‘You might want to get dressed first.’ He gestured towards the small coffee table in the window. He’d laid out a selection of take-away meals. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a little of everything. I like it all so you take first pick and I’ll have what’s left.’ The only light came from the blue-marbled moon high in the sky beyond the bay window. He saw me looking at it. ‘Stunning, isn’t it? I swear we’re getting closer to it all the time.’ I sat on the edge of the bed and again, for no reason, that lump came to my throat. Stuart looked from me to the table and back again. ‘I know it’s not much, but if we leave the lights off, eat by the light of the moon…’ He went to touch my shoulder, changed his mind and ran his hand through his hair instead. He wiped his mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I should have kept some money separate. Or asked for more.’
‘No.’ I said. ‘It’s lovely.’ I smiled at him and at the table. ‘It’s better than lovely. It’s perfect. I’m sorry I’m such a bitch at times.’
He reached for me then and hugged me. Not a sexy hug but a friendly matey-type hug. ‘Don’t you dare ever apologise for being you, Atty.’
I pulled away. If he’d held me any longer I’d have sobbed for sure. ‘I’ll just go and get dressed.’ Diving towards the bathroom to change wasn’t only about being shy, but about getting the timing right. I didn’t want Stuart to witness me hauling two-days-unwashed knickers over my damp thunder thighs with nothing but a towel for cover. The potential for a less than flattering first impression was way too high.
He bent down to rifle through a bag at his feet. ‘I got you these too. I’m not being, you know, it’s just I thought you might like a fresh pair.’ He held out a pair of socks wrapped in a tight little bundle. ‘I hope they fit.’
‘I’m sure they will. I’m pretty much standard average. Thank you.’ In the bathroom I opened the socks and found a new cute pair of panties tucked up inside. They fitted perfectly. The last box got a strong, bold tick.
The food tasted delicious. ‘That’s better. I was starving,’ I said and leaned back holding my over-stretched belly. ‘Thanks again.’
Stuart gave me that look. That twinkly-eyed, can’t-wait-to-get-you-into-bed look. My toes tingled and I rubbed the back of my neck - those new hairs tickled like crazy. Now it looked like it might actually happen, I began to fret about all that girly stuff that usually bored me senseless.
Fran used to talk openly about such things all the time, whereas I found it too embarrassing. I liked to pretend I had no desire or need to de-fuzz and/or scent various nooks and crannies. Well, I hadn’t done any of that stuff recently and neither was I going to get the chance to now. Surely he wouldn’t appreciate me using that cheap plastic razor he’d left by the sink in the bathroom. Not for the regions I needed it for. And my teeth – I’d need to scrub them again after the curry. I should never have eaten the curry.
‘You okay?’ Stuart filled my glass from a bottle of Blue he’d got free with the take-away. He looked so relaxed.
‘Yeah, sure. I’m great.’ Happy, chirpy, care-free me.
‘Good.’
‘I’ve been thinking how we can get into the Manor,’ I lied.
‘And?’ He slouched in his chair, one hand holding his glass the other rubbing his flat, hard stomach. His tee shirt lifted slightly to show me the soft line of hair leading down the centre of his belly
– he tugged at it absently.
My snoofle shot a lightening signal straight to my toes. ‘Um. I’ve been thinking we’ll have to go in through the gate because that razor stuff on top of the wall looks a bitch to get past.’
‘Through the gate. Right.’
‘Pretend we’re delivering something. Confidence will get us in.’
‘Confidence. Right.’ He smiled, taking the piss.
‘So,’ I said looking him dead in the eye. ‘You fancy your chances leaping the wall? Pole vaulting one of your specialities too, is it?’
‘Nope.’ He shook his head with an upside down smile. ‘The gate sounds like a great plan.’
I scowled and stood up. ‘I’m going to clean my teeth.’
‘Okay.’
I stopped at the door and turned. ‘Only because I got some of that meat stuck in them. At the back.’ Just shut the hell up, Atty.
In the bathroom I studied my flat hair – it doesn’t spike without the gel; my blood-red eye – it did look like a marble; my slightly bent nose – still sore; and the gash down my cheek - guaranteed to scar. Even with all that taken into consideration I didn’t get my problem. It’s not like I didn’t want this. I began to seriously doubt my sanity. I mean, really. Everybody was doing it. It’s time I caught up and got in on the action, found out what all the fuss was about.
‘Atty?’ Stuart knocked on the door.
Oh be-God. ‘Coming. I won’t be a minute.’ I cleaned my teeth, tousled my hair and took a deep breath. Now or never.
Stuart was standing to the side of the window. ‘Come and see.’ He motioned for me to walk around the table and chairs so that I stayed out of sight of anybody looking in from the street.
I crept around and stood next to him. ‘Look, down there, second tree past the red gate.’
My eyes took some adjusting to the dim light, but somebody was standing under the tree. ‘Who’s that?’