Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘It’s all being set up on the playing field – round the side of the school.’ Bex picked up a pile of cake tins. ‘Follow me.’

  The pair set off to the field and soon found the long trestle table where they dumped their contribution before heading back to the car. It took a dozen journeys to empty the boot. On their last trip they were accosted by Jo, the PTA chair.

  ‘I’ve been told what you’ve brought. That’s fantastic. You are such a star.’ She smiled at Bex with genuine warmth. ‘I can’t tell you how rare it is to find someone who promises the earth and who then delivers. Like you have.’

  Bex shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘It’s a very great deal,’ corrected Jo. ‘And on top of all this you’re going to run the tombola this afternoon.’

  ‘I like to help out.’

  ‘You’ve done more than that.’

  Bex smiled shyly and shifted the weight of the cake she was carrying.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jo, ‘I’m holding you up, but before you go, two things: one I’m having a barbecue to say thanks to the helpers next weekend – Saturday lunchtime – and I’d like you and your family to come along, and secondly, would you consider joining the PTA?’

  ‘I’ll need to check about the first, make sure there’s nothing else on,’ said Bex, ‘and may I think about the second?’

  ‘The PTA is good fun. Truly.’

  Jo’s smile led Bex to think it might be. ‘OK, I’m in.’

  ‘Great.’

  Bex walked on towards the stall.

  ‘Hey, Bex – being invited to join something. That’s good isn’t it?’ said Megan.

  Bex nodded. ‘I think so, yes. I mean, I know I’ve been to the book club but I think, judging by the PTA at the boys’ school in London, the membership for this sort of thing is pickier.’

  ‘Get you – in with the in crowd.’

  Bex put the last of cakes down and eased her shoulders. ‘Go and round up the boys, would you? We need to get a quick lunch before we get back here ready to finish setting up before the gates open. I need to make sure my stall is all ready to go.’

  ‘Would you mind if I don’t come to the fête?’ said Megan. She looked at the hoards of small kids racing around in the playground.

  Bex put her arm over Megan’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. ‘Course not, sweetie. You see enough of small children at home without having to cope with them when you’re out too. Where will you go instead? The skatepark?’

  Megan nodded. ‘I thought I’d grab a sandwich and head on down there. I expect there’ll be people from school there.’

  ‘Not just your mate Ashley?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So I’m not the only one getting integrated.’

  ‘Looks like it’s not.’

  49

  Zac checked and double checked the contents of his rucksack. He’d have to wait till his parents had gone to bed before he could finish off his packing with food from his mother’s cupboards. More stealing, he thought wryly, but he didn’t think that cheese and ham and some tins of beans were in the same league as a ruby ring.

  He felt restless and he couldn’t settle. He’d made a plan and he wanted to be off now but he had hours to wait before he could go. He’d taken Oscar for a walk, he’d tidied his room – he didn’t want to leave it for his mum to do. He knew it was a tiny gesture that wasn’t going to make up for all the other shit that he’d done but it was one way of trying to make amends and say sorry. And he’d written a farewell note to his parents telling them not to worry. There had to be something else he could do to pass the time – maybe he’d go to the skatepark. Dan wouldn’t be around at this time and maybe he’d see Ashley and Megan and apologise to them for being such a total arsewipe. Yeah, he’d do that.

  He ran down the stairs two at a time, loped past his parents who were reading the weekend papers in the sitting room and skidded to a halt by the front door.

  ‘I’m going out,’ he announced. ‘Don’t wait lunch for me.’

  ‘But what will you have?’

  Zac shrugged. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘But sweetie—’ started his mother.

  ‘Don’t fuss,’ interrupted his father. ‘The boy is old enough to make his own mind up.’

  And if you knew the decision I’ve just come to... thought Zac. ‘Bye,’ he said, as he pulled his trainers on and slipped out of the door.

  He walked down the drive, carrying his skateboard, and saw that the primary school opposite was heaving with activity as the parent-helpers sorted out the last-minute preparations for the fête. He remembered the fêtes he’d been to when he’d been a pupil there and the fun he and his mates had had – life had been so much simpler then, back when he hadn’t messed everything up. A whoosh of self-pity enveloped him. How – why – had he got it so spectacularly wrong? Ashley hadn’t. As far as he knew, his schoolfriends hadn’t. Why him? Because he was weak and stupid and couldn’t recognise a wrong decision if it came with flashing neon lights. He dropped his board at his feet on the pavement and scooted down the hill into the town. And even though it took him some minutes to get to the recreation ground, he was still feeling sorry for himself when he reached it.

  The place was heaving, unsurprising given that it was a sunny Saturday, but the buzz and the sight of so many people out having fun failed to lift his spirits. Zac zipped along the path on his board to the skate ramps, keeping his eyes peeled for his mates. Well, they had been his mates – he wasn’t so sure now. And who was to blame for that? he asked himself. Ah, there was Ashley, standing on the top of the half-pipe.

  Zac jumped off his board and climbed up to join him. Ashley eyed him coldly.

  ‘I’m sorry I hit you the other day,’ said Zac.

  Ash shook his head. ‘You didn’t. You fight like a girl.’

  ‘OK, I’m sorry I tried to hit you.’

  ‘And, let’s get this straight – I didn’t tell my mum about your habit.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s not what mates do.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re an arse, Zac.’

  ‘I know and I’m sorry.’

  ‘You should be.’

  ‘I’ve stopped doing drugs.’

  Ashley looked at his mate. ‘Really? Or are you just saying that?’

  ‘I’ve stopped. You and Megan were right, I was a twat.’

  ‘Did you stop because your mum found out?’

  ‘Partly. But it was all getting too heavy.’

  ‘It was your own fault for getting involved in the first place.’

  ‘I know. Tell me something I don’t know.’

  ‘Was it tough?’

  ‘It sucked. Still does but it’s getting less shit.’

  The pair lounged against the safety rail in silence.

  ‘How’s your mum’s bloke?’ asked Zac.

  ‘A git. He’s trying to persuade Mum that I shouldn’t go to uni.’

  ‘Uni’s not the be-all and end-all.’

  ‘Says someone who doesn’t live on the council estate. I don’t want to be a car mechanic or a labourer. I know Billy’s flush with cash but there’s better jobs out there than that.’

  ‘I won’t be going to uni,’ said Zac.

  ‘Daddy won’t fund it?’ said Ashley.

  Zac dithered with telling Ash that he wouldn’t be finishing school either but he didn’t think signalling his immediate plans was wise. Instead he said, ‘I’m glad you don’t hate me any more.’

  Ash looked at him and grinned. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that,’ he said. And he swooped off down the ramp, up the other side and then back.

  ‘Git,’ said Zac, smiling, on his return. But he felt glad he’d sorted out that situation before he left. He didn’t want to go away leaving things as they had been.

  *

  When Megan arrived at the skatepark Ashley and Zac were joshing like old times. Good. And Zac looked better, definitely less spotty and ill; more alert. Presu
mably he was still off the weed and whatever else he took. Maybe he’d be able to pay her back out of that stonking great allowance his parents gave him each month. She made her way over to the bench by the ramps and sat down to watch the kids doing their tricks and stunts and to enjoy the warm sunshine. She couldn’t see any of her other new friends hanging around but then it was lunchtime. She pulled her sandwiches out of her pocket and nibbled on one of them. It was a bit squashed but it still tasted fine.

  The boys looked over to her and waved and then slid down the slope and came to join her. They dropped their skateboards on the ground then Zac sat beside her and Ashley squatted on the parched grass.

  ‘Give us a bite,’ said Zac.

  Megan tore her second sandwich in two and shared it between them.

  ‘Looks like I’m always giving you stuff,’ she said to him.

  He blushed. ‘Yeah, I know. I’ll pay you back, promise. It’s just it’s going to be a while.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Ashley. ‘It’s only a sandwich.’

  ‘It’s more than that,’ said Megan.

  ‘Megan gave me money to pay off my dealer,’ admitted Zac.

  Ashley turned to Megan. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I was desperate,’ said Zac. ‘He had a knife. He was going to use it if I didn’t give him what I owed.’

  Ashley’s eyes widened then he shook his head.

  ‘I know,’ said Zac, defiantly. ‘I don’t need you to spell it out to me too. And I’m going to make it up to everyone but it’s going to take a while.’

  ‘Just as long as you do,’ said Megan. ‘I’m not going to forget.’

  Zac looked from one to the other. ‘I won’t either, I promise. You have to trust me, I’m sorting it out. Whatever happens...’ He stopped and shook his head.

  ‘Yeah?’ said Megan. ‘Go on.’

  ‘No, nothing,’ said Zac.

  ‘It doesn’t sound like nothing,’ said Megan.

  ‘Maybe it isn’t. You’ll find out.’

  ‘Look,’ said Ashley, ‘either spit it out or shut up. I can’t be arsed with you playing games.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll shut up then.’

  ‘Good.’

  The two boys glared at each other then Zac stood up. ‘I expect you’ll find out soon enough,’ he said. He picked up his skateboard and headed off.

  ‘What’s he up to?’ asked Ashley.

  Megan sighed. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got this awful feeling it’s not good. Anyway, enough of him. More importantly, how’s your mum? Bex told me she ended up with a ring stolen from Zac’s mum.’

  ‘It was awful. It really shook her up when the police came round and Billy got mad with her for wearing it. How was she to know it was nicked?’ His voice was thick with indignation.

  ‘My mum say she’s totally certain Amy is innocent.’

  Ashley got off the ground and sat next to Megan. ‘I know. That means a lot to my mum.’

  ‘So if she didn’t pinch it, who did?’

  The two looked at each other. ‘You don’t think Zac...’ said Megan.

  ‘He might be a twat,’ said Ashley, ‘but even Zac wouldn’t stoop that low.’

  ‘No, no you’re right.’

  *

  When Megan got back home the house was quiet. Presumably Bex and the boys were still up at the school.

  She wandered into the kitchen and made herself a cold drink and a slice of toast – having shared her lunch with Ashley and Zac she was still hungry. Taking her snack she went into the study to look at her bank book. She wished now she’d not lent him the money – forty quid was a lot of money to her. Maybe not to spoilt and privileged Zac but Bex and her dad had taught her that money had to be earned, valued, and the stuff in her building society account was for her future; for driving lessons, or maybe to help her through uni...

  She caught sight of the memory book and hesitated before she picked it up again. The last time she’d touched it had been immediately before Lily had written that poisonous message on the tutor room board – the message that had got her suspended. And the time before that had been the day that Stella had had her accident. Coincidence, Megan told herself. She picked it up and then dropped it again. Oh shit, supposing it wasn’t coincidence and another awful thing would be triggered? Zac – supposing he did something drastic, really dramatic? He’d been in a really funny mood up at the skatepark and teenage boys did that sort of thing when they were troubled; she’d read about it in the papers. They had had talks about it at school.

  Megan stared at the notebook. Don’t be ridiculous. No way could their lovely memory book have some sort of evil associated with it. Defiantly she picked it up again and her worries about Zac were subsumed as all manner of memories of her dad flooded back. As she flicked through it, tears pricked at her eyes. She sniffed and told herself that her dad wouldn’t want her to be sad. He’d tell her that she might have lost him but she still had Bex and the boys and her grandparents. She was making friends, she was doing OK at school. She needed to get a grip and count her blessings. She sniffed and dried her eyes, put the memory book and her bank book back and shut the drawer.

  It was late afternoon when Bex and the boys got back and, once again, Alfie was having a meltdown.

  ‘Too much sugar, too many additives, too hot, too tired, too much excitement,’ said Bex after she’d carried her kicking screaming son into the house and deposited him, sobbing, on the sofa.

  She tottered into the kitchen and slumped onto a chair. ‘Put the kettle on, sweetie. I’m all in.’

  ‘Apart from Alfie, did everyone have fun at the fête?’ said Megan as she began to make the tea.

  ‘Oh, Alfie had a ball, right up till the moment when I said it was time to go. And the fête was a massive success – helped in part by the weather. Jo thinks they raised nearly three grand.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘How was the skatepark?’

  ‘Fun, mostly.’

  ‘Mostly?’ Bex raised an eyebrow. ‘No one was horrid to you, were they?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I’m worried about Zac.’

  ‘Still on drugs?’

  ‘No. He says he’s clean. I think he is. He’s looking better.’

  ‘That’s good. So why are you worried?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘I don’t know – just a feeling. Something’s going on with him.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining things.’

  ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Look, you’re not to say anything to anyone – you promise me you won’t repeat this.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘They’ve got money problems.’

  ‘Money?’ Megan ignored the fact the kettle had clicked off and went over to the table and sat down opposite Bex. ‘How? Why?’

  ‘Olivia told me that her husband is... was... a gambler. He’s lost a fortune and they’ve got to sell up and move to somewhere smaller.’

  Megan’s eyes widened and she shook her head. ‘I knew Zac had had rows with his parents but I kind of assumed it was all about his drug habit. I had no idea. Blimey.’ As she thought about her mother’s bombshell she returned to making tea.

  ‘You don’t think,’ she said as she brought two mugs over to the table, ‘that something like that could make Zac do something stupid?’

  ‘I couldn’t say, I don’t know him. How stupid?’

  Megan couldn’t bring herself to voice her fears. ‘Nah, I’m probably overreacting. And maybe Zac is being a drama queen.’

  ‘Do you want me to have a word with his mum?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘And say what? That I’ve got a funny hunch about a boy I know vaguely from the skatepark?’

  ‘Put like that...’

  50

  Zac put his phone on his pillow and tucked the note he’d written to his parents under it then dropped his house keys in the middle of the duvet. He took one last look at his room before he tiptoed out. He stop
ped on the landing and listened. He could hear the ticking sound the old timbers made as they cooled down from the heat of the day and the soft noise of one of his parents snoring. He crept down the stairs and across the living room to the kitchen. Oscar’s eyes snapped open but Zac was focussed on his plan. As quietly as possible he opened the fridge and took out a packet of ham and some mini pork pies and a bottle of mineral water which he shoved in his bag. Then he went to the cupboards and dropped a couple of tins of baked beans in too. He checked the tins didn’t need an opener but the tuna he pinched next, did. He rummaged in a drawer for one. Then he saw Oscar looking at him from his basket, his head cocked and his tail thumping softly. Zac went over and rubbed the dog’s ears.

  ‘Stay,’ he commanded the dog.

  Oscar’s head dropped onto the side of his bed and his tail stilled.

  ‘Good dog,’ said Zac. Earlier he’d considered taking Oscar with him but had decided against it. It would be hard enough surviving in London without the responsibility of a dog too.

  Finally he raided the fruit bowl for some bananas before he headed to the front door which he eased open.

  Outside, the night was refreshingly cool after the warmth of the day and the sky was dark apart from the pinpricks of light from the stars. Gently, Zac eased the door shut behind him and then slung his rucksack onto his shoulder. He jumped across the path onto the grass; he didn’t want the sound of his trainers crunching over the gravel to disturb his parents. He checked his watch and then slid his other arm into the strap on his rucksack to put it on properly. He had just enough time to get to the station to catch the last train. He hurried over the front lawn and then jogged down the hill towards the railway, hanging onto his backpack straps to stop it thumping uncomfortably against his spine. He checked his watch again when he got to Megan’s house. Plenty of time. He dropped his pace down a gear or two and walked the rest of the way to the station. He glanced through the automatic doors at the departures and arrivals display board. No! The last train was cancelled due to a signal failure down the line. Bollocks!

  Zac slumped against the wall of the station. Now what? He couldn’t go home – he had no way of getting in. He’d have to wait till the morning and catch the first train. But by then it would be light and there’d be more people about and he was more likely to be recognised on CCTV, and there be more chance of getting nicked travelling without a ticket. And furthermore, there was a chance – admittedly a slim one – that his parents might find his note before he caught the train. This was a disaster.