by David Moody
‘There was the pub,’ Scott suggested.
‘Didn’t like the look of it.’
‘Or the name,’ Tammy interrupted. ‘Fancy calling a pub The Black Boy. Sounds racist. Sinister.’
‘There was a sheepdog on the sign,’ Phoebe said. ‘Probably named after a dog who saved a farmer, something like that.’
‘There was a chip shop back a way,’ Michelle said.
‘You can’t have chips for Sunday dinner,’ Phoebe protested. ‘It’s not right. When we’re with Dad, Nanny always cooks a roast dinner on Sunday.’ Her voice cracked with emotion, an unexpected twinge of sadness taking her by surprise. She wished she was there now.
‘Well you’re not at your nanny’s today, are you?’ Scott said, oblivious. ‘Looks like it’s chips or nothing.’
‘We could head back to the supermarket,’ Michelle said. ‘Get something to eat from there.’
‘Too cold for a picnic,’ Tammy said. ‘The sun’s gone in.’
‘Then we can just take stuff back to the house.’
‘What was the point of coming out then?’
‘Give it a rest, Tam. Stop being so bloody argumentative all the time. We wanted you to see the school.’
‘Why bother? We’ll see it tomorrow, anyway. We should have stayed at the house and saved all the effort.’
‘What effort?’ Scott said. ‘Haven’t seen anyone else putting any effort in. Come on, let’s go.’
Phoebe wasn’t moving. ‘You said we were having a Sunday dinner.’
‘I know, but—’
‘But you said...’
‘What am I supposed to do? Just magic one up? Pull one out of my backside?’
‘You said...’
Frustrated, Scott turned and started back towards the supermarket, walking at double pace. ‘I’ll get you your bloody dinner,’ he shouted. ‘Just stop being so bloody miserable.’
He was halfway back to the supermarket before the rest of them moved. ‘I’ll go and see what he’s doing,’ Michelle said. ‘Make sure we get something decent to eat.’
‘Bloke’s an idiot,’ Tammy said.
Michelle’s shoulders slumped. ‘Give it a rest, will you? I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place here. Scott’s trying, you know. This hasn’t been easy on him either.’
‘Maybe he should have tried a little earlier. If he had, maybe we wouldn’t have lost the house.’
‘Tam, don’t go there...’
‘But it’s true, Mum, you know it is.’
‘And going on about it isn’t going to help anyone. We are where we are.’
‘Will you stop saying that.’
‘Just deal with it. Both of you. Do me a favour and look after George. I’ll go and see what Scott’s up to.’
End of conversation. Michelle handed George’s buggy to Phoebe then went into the supermarket.
‘She always does that,’ Tammy said.
‘Does what?’
‘Walks away when she doesn’t want to hear what someone’s saying. Does my head in.’
The sisters sat down on the stone wall around the edge of the car park, their brother parked between them.
‘That school looked all right, actually,’ Phoebe said. Tammy just looked at her.
‘You serious? You must be off your head, Pheeb. It looked like a fucking hole, just like the rest of this dump of a place.’
‘It is Sunday though, Tam. Everywhere’s quiet on a Sunday.’
‘You all right, girls?’ an unexpected voice asked. They turned and saw a group of three lads and a girl standing on the other side of the wall. Two of the boys, Tammy quickly decided, were nothing special: all bad hair, cheap sports gear and exaggerated swagger. The one in the middle though, the tallest of the three, the only one who wasn’t smoking, was quite cute. But she’d already decided there was an insurmountable difference between a quite cute boy from Thussock and a quite cute boy from Redditch. These people were alien to her.
‘We’ve just moved here,’ Phoebe said and Tammy glared and shushed her. Too much information.
‘Never a good move,’ the smallest of the boys said, his T-shirt flapping against his willowy frame in the wind. He looked colder than he was letting on. He had a sharp nose and small eyes and looked like he was scowling. ‘Should’a stayed where you was. Fuck all happens here.’
Tammy struggled to work out what it was he’d just said. His accent was so strong, so unfathomable, that she had to replay the sounds over in her head a couple of times before she could make out the individual words and un-jumble them. ‘We didn’t ask to come here,’ she said, not wanting to engage, but not wanting anyone to think she was here through choice either.
The girl leant over the wall and peered down at George. ‘That your kid?’ she asked.
‘What do you think?’ Tammy said, sounding more aggressive than she’d intended.
‘Don’t know, that’s why I asked.’
‘No, he’s our brother.’
‘He’s cute,’ she said, apparently unperturbed. ‘I’m Heather.’
‘Hey.’
‘I’m Jamie,’ the tallest lad said, introducing himself. ‘This here’s Joel and Sean.’
Tammy just nodded and grunted something that was hardly even a word. She turned back around to emphasise her disinterest and stared at the Co-op, hoping her mum would reappear and get them away from here. The automatic doors slid open and Scott emerged with a bulging carrier bag in either hand. For once she was relieved to see him. She could already sense the crowd behind her beginning to slope away, all cigarette smoke and put-on attitude. She glanced over her shoulder and made sure they’d gone.
‘Were they giving you any trouble?’ Scott asked.
‘No,’ she replied, indignant. Even if they were, she didn’t need his help to deal with them.
Michelle watched the group disappear. She hated herself for sounding like such a snob, but she didn’t like the idea of her girls mixing with kids like that. And she knew that attitude was unfair and probably wholly unwarranted, but for now that was just how it was. She wondered if she’d have felt different if she’d seen the same kids in Redditch?
‘So what’s for dinner?’ Phoebe asked, more interested in her stomach than anything else.
‘All kinds of crap,’ Scott said. ‘Mostly junk food, stuff that’s really bad for you. That okay?’
‘Perfect.’
‘That’s what I thought you’d say.’
They walked back to the car which was parked all alone, numerous empty bays on either side. Michelle strapped George into his seat while Scott collapsed the buggy and loaded it into the boot with the shopping.
‘Wait up! ’Scuse me, sir!’
Scott looked around and saw one of the Co-op staff running towards him, waving furiously, already out of breath despite the relatively short distance he’d covered. He was in his late forties or early fifties, Scott thought, plump, and with a ruddy complexion and a shock of wild auburn hair which was just on the wrong side of being under control. He stopped short of Scott and stared at him with wide eyes, made to look even wider by the circular frames and magnifying lenses of his glasses. Scott was immediately on guard. He’d clocked this particular joker in the store, stacking shelves and collecting up trolleys and baskets with unnecessary enthusiasm.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘There’s no problem.’
The man, whose name was Graham according the name badge clipped onto his tie, just stood there.
‘What then?’
‘Eh?’
‘What do you want?’
‘Oh, right,’ Graham said, remembering why he was there. ‘You left your wallet in the shop.’ He handed it over. ‘Good job I was looking out for you, eh?’
Scott instinctively checked his pockets, then took his wallet from Graham’s outstretched hand. He checked his bank cards and counted the notes at the back.
‘It’s all there,’ Graham said.
‘Cheers.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, and with that he was off again. He jogged back to the shop, suddenly veering off to the left to round up a rogue trolley he’d somehow missed when he’d last checked outside a few minutes earlier.
‘Thank you,’ Michelle shouted after him. Graham waved but didn’t look back.
‘Weirdo,’ Scott said.
‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘Well, I mean... just look at him.’
‘What about him?’
‘Bloke his age, collecting trolleys for a living.’
‘Don’t be so hard on him, love. Looked to me like he’d got learning difficulties, something like that. Anyway, he’s working, and that’s got to be a good thing, hasn’t it? It’s more than either of us are doing at the moment.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? We only just got here. Haven’t started looking for work yet.’
‘I know. I wasn’t suggesting anything, I was just saying it’s good to see people like him getting on so well, that’s all.’
‘Still a weirdo.’
Michelle sighed. ‘He might be thinking the same about you. Look at it from his point of view, Scott. The folks here all know each other and they all know this place. Right now we’re the strangers.’
#
The family’s improvised lunch was just about sufficient. They ate in the kitchen, all sitting around the rickety table they’d inherited from the house’s former owner. It started to feel reassuringly normal. ‘It’s like we’re on holiday,’ Phoebe said.
‘Except you’ve got school tomorrow,’ Scott reminded her.
‘And you’re supposed to enjoy holidays, remember?’ Tammy said.
Michelle shook her head. ‘Give it a rest, Tam.’
‘You know what I mean, though?’ Phoebe explained. ‘It’s like when you’re stopping in a caravan, and it’s home, but it’s not home? You get it, don’t you Mum? You’ve got all the same people around you and all the same stuff, but it’s not home. Feels like it by the end of the week, though.’
‘Remember when we went to the Isle of Wight?’ Scott said. ‘You two bottled it in the haunted house at that fair, remember?’
‘I was only ten,’ Phoebe protested. ‘It was scary.’
‘You should have seen your faces,’ he laughed, remembering the way they’d both coming running back out through the entrance, barging through the queue still trying to get in. ‘Priceless. You scared one woman half to death!’
‘You were just as bad,’ Tammy said. ‘You wouldn’t even go on the rollercoaster.’
‘I wasn’t feeling great. It was those chips. They didn’t agree with me.’
‘Yeah, right. I think you bottled it.’
‘We all ate the chips, Scott...’ Michelle said and he glared at her. The girls laughed and he had to admit defeat.
The conversation faltered. Michelle looked for a volunteer to help her wash up, but the girls were suddenly conveniently busy. They made their excuses and went up to their rooms, the idea of unpacking their belongings slightly preferable to dealing with dirty dishes. Only George remained, playing on the floor around Scott’s feet as Michelle cleared the table. ‘What did you say that for?’ he asked.
‘Say what?’
‘The thing about the chips.’
‘Oh that,’ she said, shoving a handful of wrappers and scraps into a black sack. ‘I was just messing about. I know you weren’t well that day.’
‘So why did you say it? Made me look stupid.’
‘Sorry, love. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
He got up quick, his sudden movement startling her momentarily. She was worried she’d offended him. He disappeared, only to return a few seconds later with paper, a pen, and his toolbox. He put the toolbox in the middle of the half-cleared table and took out a tape measure, then started studying the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, tapping it with his knuckles and peering into greasy nooks and crannies which looked like they hadn’t been cleaned out in years. Michelle worked around him.
‘It’s not going to be that big a job,’ he said.
‘What isn’t?’
‘Knocking this wall through. Remember what I was saying about opening the kitchen out into the dining room?’
‘I remember. Can we afford to do it?’
‘Afford to do what? It doesn’t cost anything to put a hole in a wall, Chelle.’
‘No, but it’ll cost to make it all good again.’
‘A bit of boarding up and plastering, a lick of paint, that’s all. I reckon I can have it done in a fortnight.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Let me show you.’
‘Can I just get the washing up sorted?’
‘It’ll only take a second.’
‘Okay.’
She put down the plates and walked over to where he was standing. He started gesticulating like an excited kid, drawing imaginary lines on the wall. ‘I’ll take this much out, then you’ll have double the space in here. Be perfect, won’t it? I might put in another rad and shove a couple of extra sockets in here.’
‘We could do with more plugs.’
‘That’s what I thought. Not sure yet, though. I might just wait and get it done when I get the house re-wired.’
‘But like I said, can we afford it?’
‘Will you stop going on about money all the bloody time? Christ, you’re like a broken record.’
‘I’m just worried, that’s all.’
‘I already told you, the money we spend on the house is an investment. So it’ll probably cost a few grand to get these things done, but they’ll all add to the value of the house.’
‘I know that. We don’t have a lot to play with though, remember? There’s no rainy day fund anymore.’
‘Can’t you see what it’s going to be like? Try and visualise it, Chelle. Getting rid of this wall will really open up downstairs, make it feel more like a home. It’s too dark as it is, too many doors, not enough light.’
‘I know. I can see it. It’s just that—’
‘I tell you, it’s worth borrowing to get this done. We could take out a small mortgage on this place, release some of the equity.’
‘Who’s going to lend us money now, Scott? Come on...’
‘Stop being so bloody negative.’
‘I’m not. I’m all for being positive, love, but we also need to be realistic. If I wasn’t being positive I wouldn’t be here, would I?’
‘I’m going to cost it all up, see what it’ll take.’
‘You don’t listen to a word I say, do you?’
‘I do. Your problem is you don’t have any vision. Just try and picture it all done. It’ll be amazing. I’m going to start looking for work tomorrow and once we’re more established I’ll get myself set up again and start doing a few building jobs on the side.’
‘I thought you said you were done with running your own business?’
‘Did you not hear me? On the side. I’ll do stuff on the quiet. Cash in hand. This house will be beautiful.’
‘I don’t doubt you.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
She sighed and leant back against the table, choosing her words carefully. ‘If you started on the kitchen, how long do you think it would take?’
‘A couple of weeks if I’m working on it full-time. Might as well sort the wiring and the plumbing at the same time.’
‘But what if you’re working?’
‘Don’t know. A month or two, I guess. Evenings and weekends.’
‘And once you’ve started, the kitchen will be pretty much out of action?’
‘Not for the whole time. That’s going to be inevitable to an extent, though, isn’t it?’
‘So what do I do about cooking? I can’t cook in the middle of a building site.’
‘We’ll eat out.’
‘We tried that this morning.’
‘What the fuck’s wrong with you? I’m trying to get this family back on its feet, you’re just putting
up obstacles.’
‘It’s just there’s a serious lack of McDonalds, Pizza Hut and Burger King around here. We’ll struggle without a fully functioning kitchen for a couple of days, never mind a couple of weeks or months, and I’m sorry if I sound like a broken record, but I’m really not sure we can afford to do all the stuff you’re talking about doing in one go. I think we need to take our time, plan things carefully, save up...’
‘And I think—’
Tammy burst into the room, mobile phone in hand, seething. ‘Shit.’
‘What’s your problem?’ Scott asked, annoyed he’d been interrupted.
‘This stupid bloody house, that’s my problem.’
She was gone again before either of them could react. Michelle followed her daughter from room to room. ‘Tam, slow down,’ she said, but Tammy was having none of it. She barged past her mother and went out the front door, slamming it behind her. Scott followed her out and chased her down the side of the house. She was coming back the other way now. He tried to stop her but she side-stepped him. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’
‘Can’t get a signal,’ she yelled, holding up her phone as if it was going to make a difference. She stared hopefully up at the small screen, willing the ‘Searching’ message to disappear, desperate to see some signal strength.
‘Have you tried upstairs?’
‘Of course I’ve tried upstairs. I’m not stupid. I’ve tried everywhere.’
‘Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?’ he shouted. She stormed off again, as much to put some distance between her and Scott than anything else.
‘Just leave her,’ Michelle said. She positioned herself between the two of them and put her hands on Scott’s chest. ‘Please, love. She’s only doing it because she knows she’ll get a reaction.’
‘Too right she’ll get a bloody reaction. I’m sick of the way she behaves. She’s not the only one who’s having to make adjustments, you know.’
‘I know... you’re right. But cut her some slack. Let her get used to the way things are now...’
‘I’m not putting up with it. We’ve had this crap non-stop since we sold the old house.’
‘Yes, and we probably will a while longer yet. She’s hurting.’
‘So am I.’
‘Yes, but you’re thirty-seven, she’s not quite seventeen. We just have to give her some space.’