by Chris Vick
The only answer I got when I knocked was Tess barking. So I turned, and started walking. But then – a cracked and croaky, “Hello, Sam.”
Jade stood in the doorway, in tracky bottoms and T-shirt. Her eyes were sleepy deep, not really seeing me. Her hair was a mess. She looked like some animal, woken from hibernation.
“Did you see the news?” I said, running back.
“No, what about it?”
“Storms. Loads of them, coming our way. We’re on for the Horns.”
“Cool, great,” she said. But she sounded flat. It was like talking with an answerphone.
Can’t talk right now. Get back to you another time.
“Are you okay?” I said. “Has he…”
“He hasn’t spoken to me since. I’m okay, just glazed and confused. Took a while for that night at the rave to catch up with me. You?”
“Fine.”
“Fine. You’re fine? Lucky bastard.” She looked up, her eyes beginning to focus. “Oooh, nice bruise. It’s come up a treat,” she said, putting a finger to my eye. She stroked the bruise, soft like a feather. “Storms then?” she said. Her mouth broke into a smile as the news sunk in. “Storms. Devil’s Horns. Yeah, that’s cool.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Shit knows. He left a note saying he was off though. Not back till tonight. I got to go back to bed. I haven’t really slept. The gear I took. I swear it took two days to wear off. Now I’m full-on broken. But that’s great about the storms.”
“You going to let me in?” I said.
Jade bit her lip, stared at me, like she wasn’t sure. But then she opened the door, wide. “You want a coffee?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. We hugged. She was soft and warm from bed.
“Make me one too,” she said. “Strong.” She pointed to the kitchen, told me where I’d find coffee and milk, and headed upstairs.
While the kettle boiled, I had a nose around.
The lounge hadn’t seen a hoover in a while. There was a low table, with a full ashtray, and two beer cans on it. Old newspapers were piled up next to the fire. The rug was covered in burn marks. There was only one picture on the wall: a bad painting of a ship. No photos or paintings, but dark squares where there might have been some. I stood a while, watching the dust in the air, like a billion tiny stars, imagining her dad sunk in the armchair, drinking beer.
“What you doing?” Jade stood in the doorway. The kettle was whistling. I hadn’t even noticed.
“Nothing, just…”
“It’s okay. I did the same at your gran’s house.”
“Where’s the photos?” I pointed at the empty squares on the wall.
“Dad doesn’t want memories,” she said. “Kettle’s still whistling.” She went back upstairs.
I went and made the drinks, expecting her to reappear, dressed. But she didn’t.
Was she still in bed? Was she waiting for me to join her? She seemed hardly awake, not likely to want to … But still…
I walked up the stairs.
She was in bed, scrunched up in her duvet. I wanted to climb in with her. It wasn’t likely to happen, but I did want to get in. Shit, I wanted her. Badly. But I just stood there like a lemon, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand.
“Put them down here.” She sighed, and pointed to her bedside table, then threw back the quilt, and moved over.
“No funny business, Sam. Right?” I kicked off my trainers and climbed in. We kissed. We kissed more. I moved my body into hers. “I said no funny business,” she said. Jade sat up and patted the quilt between us. Tess leapt straight up and lay down. A wall between our bodies. That was that, then.
“Storms,” she whispered. “We’re gonna do it, Sam.”
“Yeah. Afraid?” I said.
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
I wondered about that. Everyone’s afraid of something.
My eyes wandered around her room. Clothes were scattered on the floor, like the laundry basket had puked them up. Cups and plates too. The shelves were crammed with surf mags. And like the den, the walls were plastered with pics of surfers. But there was one photo, part hidden behind the mags. A woman standing on a beach. A woman who looked like Jade. For a second I thought it was Jade. But this was a pic of a woman, not a girl.
“Is that your mum?” I said, pointing.
“Yes.”
I went and got the photo and got back into her bed. I felt a shock, looking at the woman who was so like Jade. But older. A happy mum, on a beach, with a seven or eight-year-old Jade, cuddling a puppy.
“You. Tess. Your mum,” I said.
“I’m the spit. I know. Everyone says it.”
“D’you miss her?”
She took the photo off me, and looked at it. Into it. “Course I do, Sam. She’s my mum.”
I hesitated. Wanting to know more, not wanting her to flip on me.
“How come she left?” I said.
“Still nosy, aren’t you?” she said. Jade looked at the picture, stroking Tess’s head with the other hand. “It’s for the best. I miss her, but I don’t miss…”
“What?”
She paused, holding her breath.
“What?” I said, again. “It’s all right you know. You can tell me.”
Jade bit her lip, looking out the window at the moors. She was dead still, thinking.
“…the fighting.” She let out a long sigh.
I sat up too. I put my hand out and stroked the hair off her forehead. She smiled at me, then looked down at Tess. Almost shy. Almost embarrassed. I brushed her cheek, tried to get a smile out of her.
I wanted to know. Maybe to prove I didn’t just want Jade the girl, Jade the mad surfer. I wanted to know about her family. I didn’t know if I could help. I didn’t know if I could look after her like I’d said to her dad. But I could try.
When she spoke, it was mouse-like. Not much more than a whisper.
“She never wanted to live out here, see. Me, Dad, Tess, we’d hate to be shacked up in town. But Mum wasn’t… isn’t like that. She likes pubs, shops, clothes. And people, she loves people. She can’t be alone. She loves attention.”
“From blokes?” I asked. I thought about Jade, at the rave.
“Yeah. They married young because mum was knocked up with me. I’m the reason she had to give up her party life…”
“And?”
“When I was older, she started going out. That’s how it started.”
“How what started?” I couldn’t stop the questions, I couldn’t stop pushing her, no matter how gentle I made it seem. I was getting in deep with Jade. Not just the sex, everything. Everything that was her.
“Well, she’s pretty and blokes liked her and she enjoyed it. Too much. But she never did anything, when she was with Dad. I reckon I’d know if she had. She just liked messing with blokes’ heads, got a kick from it…” Again, I thought of Jade at the rave … “She lapped it up. Dad was jealous. He’d go looking for her, round the pubs, people’s houses. He took me with him once. Christ, it was embarrassing. Last couple of years I was out surfing whenever I could. So one good thing came from it. They didn’t even notice. Glad to have me out the way, so they could fight.”
She gripped the quilt. She sat bolt upright, looking at me, worried, searching my eyes. She was nervy. I reckon she thought she’d said too much. She sighed heavily and sat back into the pillows. “Dad wouldn’t let her go out. He smothered her. And he got worse with the drink… Then… I dunno what happened, not for sure. But she couldn’t stand it any more. She went and stayed with a mate. For a bit, she said. But a bit turned into a month. Then…”
“How come you didn’t go with her?”
“I reckon I was part of what she was getting away from. Responsibilities, like. I don’t blame her but…” Jade put the cup down. She folded her arms, her voice suddenly rising. “Well. She still bloody went, didn’t she? She still left me… us.”
“Left you with him,” I said, and I was
thinking: With a piss-head who uses his fists. Now it was my turn to take a deep breath. “Does he hit you, Jade?” I said. She flinched, turned to look at me.
“No, Sam. You got to believe me. He doesn’t.” She was pleading, desperate for me to believe her. She was breathing fast, scrabbling for an answer. She looked afraid, really afraid.
“It’s been close, that’s all. Like yesterday, at the cafe. He holds my arm, tight, like this.” She grabbed my arm, digging her nails in.
“Hey, ouch!” I said, but she didn’t stop. She shook my arm. She scowled, lowering her voice and tucking her chin in.
“What do you think you’re playing at, missy, staying out all hours? What kind of a fucking princess do you think you are?”
It was scary. She acted it too well. Tess cowered.
“You have to get out, Jade,” I said. “Maybe you can stay at ours?”
“You reckon he’d be all right with that, do you? Anyway, you got less room than we have.”
“Grandma’s then. Or with your mum?”
“My mum’s in no state to look after me. Even if she wanted to.”
“How do you know? You never see her, and…” She turned her head, away, sharp and quick, hiding her face from me. “Christ. You do see her, don’t you?”
She shrugged, still facing the wall.
“When you seeing her next?” I said.
Silence. A long silence. Then: “Tomorrow. She’s in town for a couple of nights,” she whispered.
“It’s school tomorrow.”
“For you maybe.”
“Do you want me to come?” I said. I thought she’d turn and face with me flaming eyes, and mean lips. But her eyes were soft.
“She’d like you. I know she would. You’d… surprise her. But no, you’re all right, Sam. Believe me, once you got a taste of what my life is really like, you wouldn’t want to know.”
“Yeah, I would.”
“Really?” She looked at me, unbelieving.
“Really. Let me come.”
“No. But it might be good to meet up later though, she’s…”
“What?”
Jade shook her head. She was saying: No more questions. Making it clear. But was that a tear in her eye?
I leant over and pulled her to me, our foreheads touching. She sighed. She smiled. We kissed. I held her head with my hands. She held on to my T-shirt, gripping it.
“I said no funny business,” she said. But I kept on.
She didn’t say it again.
It was her who grabbed Tess by the collar and pulled her off the bed.
I NEVER REALLY meant to follow her. I just did; I couldn’t help myself.
We got the bus to school like normal. Only, when we got off at the school stop at the top of town, the crowd of kids went one way, and Jade went the other, with the women and toddlers, off to do their Monday shop.
“Hope it goes all right,” I shouted after her.
“Thanks,” she said, not looking back.
“I could still come with you?” I said. But she didn’t answer.
I watched her disappear into the crowd. She looked smaller somehow, younger, like a kid. I felt a twist in my gut, watching her go. I was about to shout after her, to get her to stop. But hands grabbed my shoulders from behind. Rag spun me round and shook me.
“See the news?” he said. “See the Fur. King. News? Kook? You listening?”
I looked after Jade, but she’d gone. And it was like a knife in my gut. Deep and painful.
“Rag, I’m not coming to school. Tell them I’m ill.”
“Sneaky surf, eh?” He winked, and tapped the side of his nose.
“Nah, something else.” I ran off, after Jade. If she saw me, she’d be mad as a poked cat. And spying on her wasn’t good. It just made more sense than going to school somehow.
I ran down the main street into town: a cobbled walkway of cafes and quirky shops. I couldn’t see her. I ran all the way down. If she’d been walking, I’d have caught her. So where was she?
“Shit!” I ran back. Only this time I looked down the alleys that ran off the main drag.
The first one was empty. The second too. She could have been anywhere. But when I checked the third one, there she was, right at the end, turning a corner.
I ran down, peeked around the wall.
She was walking down a thin alley of tall terraced buildings. The backs of shops. It was a bright wintry day, but the alley was deep in shadows. She looked even smaller. And alone.
I didn’t call out; I didn’t catch her. I followed, like a spy. I didn’t want her mad at me, didn’t want to interfere. I told myself I’d catch her up and talk. Eventually. But for now…
Down one alley, another street, another alley. She was making her way down town, towards the harbour. Eventually she came out of the maze of alleys and streets and on to the seafront, a row of pubs and cafes near the docks.
She stood outside the shut door of a run-down pub called The Dolphin. It was weird that she was meeting her mum in a pub. It had to be closed. It wasn’t even nine yet.
The door opened – I didn’t see by who – and in she went.
Not quite opposite the pub, there was a cockle and whelk stall, boarded up. I went and hid behind it. Planning to wait for her.
But then, in the pub window: I noticed a woman was sat down at a table. A pack of fags in front of her, and a half-full glass.
It was Jade’s mum. They were the spit of each other. But this woman was changed from the woman I’d seen in the photo. She was still beautiful, but she had a face that had seen some weather. Her face was hard. Lined by the years. Damaged.
Then, there was Jade. Her mum stood up and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight. They hugged, rocking. Her mum kissed Jade’s cheeks. Lots of times.
They sat, Jade’s mum keeping hold of Jade’s hands, staring into her eyes.
I kept out of sight, but peeked around the wall of the shack. An old woman walked by with her dog, looking at me, suspicious.
Spying wasn’t a good thing to do, but now I was there I couldn’t just walk away. And watching them was like being pulled by some kind of magnet. Because it was like watching a vision of who Jade might become. And seeing Jade as she really was now, too. Stripped of all her attitude.
They talked a while. A man brought her mum another drink, and Jade a cup of tea.
I watched them for twenty minutes, maybe half an hour. I thought of going. I didn’t know how long they’d be, and the longer I stayed, the more guilty I felt. I’d go in a minute. That’s what I told myself. Lots of times.
Jade got pretty active, her mouth moving fast, her hands open on the table. Pleading. Her mum sat there, listening, shaking her head once in a while. Jade banged the table with her fist.
Eventually Jade stood to go. Then it was her mum pleading with her, begging her not to go, I reckoned. Jade dug around in her bag. She pulled out a handful of notes and offered them to her mum. I don’t know how much. But whatever it was, it was more than Jade could afford, which was nothing.
Her mum shook her head, but eyed the cash, hungrily. Jade pushed the money at her, insisting. Her mum took the money, squirrelling it straight into her pocket. She stared at the table. I reckon she was ashamed. I felt that shame too, watching something I shouldn’t be.
Her mum looked up, but not at Jade, out the window. At me. It happened in a second. I didn’t have time to hide.
“Shit,” I said.
Jade’s eyes flared. With shock. With shame.
She said goodbye to her mum. They hugged a long time, Jade looking over her mum’s shoulder to see if I was still there. Accusing. I walked off, out of sight, waiting for Jade, and feeling like crap.
She came out of the pub, saw me and – making a point of it – turned, and marched off, towards the harbour.
“Hey,” I said, catching her up. She kept on marching, like I wasn’t even there. “Hey, I know you’re angry. I never meant to spy, I just…”
She walked faster, almost breaking into a run.
“Will you just listen?” I said. I took a fast step around and in front of her, stopping her from going any further. “I said, will you just…” She glared at me, hard. Then down, at the pavement, as the tears came.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” I said.
She punched me, hard, in the chest, then dropped her bag on the ground and slapped me, stinging my cheek. She flung her fists, belting me. I grabbed both her wrists. She squirmed and fought, spitting and stamping.
“You don’t get to spy on me, Sam… You don’t get to do that.”
“Why you giving her money, Jade?”
“None of your fucking business. Let me go.”
“You can’t afford that.”
“Let go!”
“Did you talk to her about your dad?”
“Let go!” she said. I realised I was holding her just like her dad did. I dropped her wrists, like they were burning me.
“I never meant to spy, and I’m sorry but…” I was shocked by how angry I sounded. “I wasn’t going to leave you to deal with this alone. Right?”
It was like I’d slapped her. She was shocked.
“I said, you don’t have to deal with this shit alone.”
Her arms hung in the air, like I was still holding them. Or like she was a boxer, about to hit me. Her eyes searched my face. Tears fell down her face in rivers. She was trying to stand tall, trying to look angry. But the harder she tried, the more broken she looked.
“But… I… am alone,” she said, quietly. Her crying breaking her words into sobs.
“No,” I said. “You’re not.” I put my arms around her, kissing the top of her head.
“It’s okay,” I said. Over and over. Trying to comfort her.
“It’s fucked up, Sam. It’s fucked up.” She choked the words out, getting angry again. “I told her Dad was being a twat. I asked if I could stay with her, like you said. Do you know what? She said I can’t. That’s what she said. Happy now? Got any other ace ideas?”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”
“Well… don’t. Don’t try and fix things that can’t be fixed. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay.”
She broke down then. She couldn’t talk.