by David Moody
They sat near the window. The interior of the café wasn’t particularly large – optimistically overcrowded with too many tables, Michelle thought – but she wondered if they might have picked the wrong seats when a large-hipped woman burst dramatically through a dated beaded curtain and made a big deal about getting all the way over to them, weaving clumsily around the furniture. Michelle cringed, but she relaxed when the woman broke into a broad and genuinely friendly smile. This, she decided, had to be Mary McLeod. She certainly fitted the description Jackie had given her: very heavy makeup, stacked-up hair, barrel-shaped.
‘Afternoon. What’ll I get for yous all?’
Scott studied a dog-eared laminated menu card. The pictures were faded and the prices had been adjusted for inflation in ballpoint pen. The choices were limited, but he’d expected that. No specials today, he thought, just ordinaries. Typical straightforward, unadventurous meals with bugger all in the way of flair or garnish. He was initially disappointed, then relieved. He didn’t want much, actually, just a good, hot, cheap meal to fill him up. No pretentiousness, just decent food. ‘I’ll have an all day breakfast with a side of chips,’ he said, pushing the boat out.
‘The same but without the chips,’ Phoebe added quickly.
‘Lasagne,’ Tammy said, choosing the least dodgy-looking dish she could see.
‘Chicken nuggets and chips for George, and I’ll have a baked potato with cheese and beans, please.’
Mary scribbled furiously, concentrating hard. ‘Drinks?’
‘Three teas, one coke and an orange juice,’ Michelle answered automatically, without needing to think or consult the others. Mary nodded and scribbled some more. She was about to walk away when she stopped and turned back again.
‘You the new family?’
‘We just moved here...’ Michelle started to answer before Mary interrupted.
‘The grey house?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I thought as much. I could tell from your accents that you weren’t local, and I’d heard you’d two girls and a boy.’
‘Jesus,’ Scott said. ‘There’s no privacy in Thussock.’
Michelle glared at him. Mary didn’t seem to mind. ‘News travels fast. Anyway, it’s lovely to meet yous all. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.’
‘Why does everyone call it the grey house?’ Phoebe asked, waiting for some mysterious explanation. Mary just looked at her.
‘Because it’s grey.’
‘It’s quite a change from where we were before,’ Michelle said, desperately trying to build bridges, not burn them. ‘It’s going to take a little time to get used to things, but we’re liking it here so far.’
‘That’s just grand,’ Mary said, her wide smile revealing nicotine-stained teeth behind lipstick-scrawled lips. ‘But you’ve had quite the first week of it by all accounts, haven’t you?’
Scott looked up. She was looking directly at him. ‘What do you mean by that...?’
‘Ah, don’t worry,’ she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re not all gossips here. It’s just that when you live in a place as small as Thussock, word gets around whenever anything out of the ordinary happens. Warren from Barry’s yard comes in here most mornings for something to eat. He said Barry had given you some work, and then, of course, he told me about all that terrible stuff going on with Ken Potter.’
‘It’s not been the best of starts,’ Michelle agreed, getting in quick before Scott could say anything.
‘Things’ll calm down for yous all, I’m sure,’ Mary said, looking round the table at the faces looking back at her. She ruffled George’s hair. ‘Right then, lets go get your food sorted...’ and with that she disappeared back through the beaded curtain into the kitchen.
There was an awkward silence around the table. ‘Seems friendly enough,’ Michelle said.
‘I’m not having people knowing my business,’ Scott said angrily. Michelle tried to calm him. She reached for his hand but he snatched it away. ‘It’s a frigging joke,’ he hissed. ‘Who the hell do they think they are?’
‘Don’t get angry, love, they don’t mean anything by it.’
‘I’m not having it. It’s like living in a bloody horror film round here... people getting killed and everyone knowing your business.’
‘You’re too cynical, suspicious of everybody.’
‘I’ve got every bloody right to be. I’ve been let down too many times. I don’t like people sticking their noses in. It makes me feel uneasy. I don’t know anything about anyone here, but they all seem to know a lot about me.’
‘But that’s only to be expected, isn’t it? We’re a large family from way out of the area, and we’ve moved into the middle of a small, tight-knit community.’
‘Inbred, more like,’ Tammy said, listening in.
Michelle sighed. ‘You’re as bad as each other. They don’t know about us. All they know is that we’ve moved into the grey house, as they all insist on calling it, and they know what happened with you at that chap’s house this week.’
‘I’m going to paint that bloody house next summer.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Tammy said, surprising them both.
‘You serious?’
‘Anything to get rid of the grey. It’s like living in a morgue.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Michelle said, lowering her voice again as Mary returned with their drinks. ‘It’s not that bad.’
‘Here we go,’ she said, handing the drinks around and getting them right. She put the orange juice down in front of George. ‘You’re a big strong lad, aren’t you?’
George just looked at her, then looked at his mother. ‘It’s your accent, I think,’ Michelle explained. ‘He has trouble understanding us sometimes, never mind anyone else.’
‘Ah, he’ll get used to us,’ she laughed, ‘and we’ll get used to him. Won’t be long with your food now.’
‘See,’ Scott whispered, ‘it’s like the bloody Wicker Man.’
‘The what?’ Phoebe asked.
‘The Wicker Man. It’s a horror film. A policeman moves into a place like Thussock, and it turns out they’re all a bunch of screwed-up devil worshippers.’
‘What, a bit like Hot Fuzz?’
‘Sort of. The Wicker Man came first though. The original’s a classic. In the last scene the policeman is—’
Michelle put her hand on his. ‘Come on, love, this place is nothing like that. I don’t think Phoebe wants to know about horror films.’
‘I do,’ she protested.
An elderly couple came into the café and sat down at a table nearer the counter. Mary’s voice drifted out from the kitchen. ‘That you, Edie?’
‘Aye, that’s us,’ a decrepit-looking, grey-haired woman replied.
‘The usual for yous two?’
‘Aye.’
‘Be a few minutes, love. Got a big order on.’
‘There’s no rush, Mary. We’ve all day.’
At least that was how Michelle thought the conversation went. It was difficult to make out. The locals’ accents became broader and harder to decipher when they were talking to each other. ‘You do realise that’s how George is going to talk, don’t you?’ Tammy said. ‘Did you think about that when you dragged us all up here? He’s going to end up with a Scottish accent.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Michelle said, though she wasn’t entirely sure how it made her feel.
‘Not if you’re Scottish,’ Tammy added unnecessarily.
#
The food was good. In fact, it was better than good. The only person who’d left anything on his plate was George, and his dad was now finishing off his few remaining nuggets and chips.
The café was getting busier. A group of lads had appeared, making more noise than the rest of the diners combined. Michelle noticed the way Tammy tried not to make it obvious she was watching them and, at the same time, how they were gawping at the girls. ‘You know them?’ she asked. Tammy sank into her seat, embarr
assed at being seen out with her family. It wasn’t cool.
‘They’re from school,’ she replied. ‘The cocky one’s Jamie. I’ve been beating him off all week.’
‘Lucky you,’ said Scott. She just glared at him.
‘You think? Look at the state of them.’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Want me to have a word, tell them to back off?’
‘Don’t you dare,’ she said quickly. ‘I’d die. I can handle myself, thanks. The last thing I need is you getting involved.’
‘Yeah, but if they’re causing you problems.’
‘Don’t Scott, just don’t.’ She shook her head in despair. He just didn’t get it, did he? She was relieved when Heather, the girl who hung around with these lads, came into the café. Tammy had spoken to her a couple of times in class during the week just gone and was quietly pleased when Heather spotted her then changed direction and came straight over.
‘All right?’
‘Yeah, you?’
‘I’m good. These your folks?’ Heather asked. ‘Nice to meet you all.’
‘Get your arse over here, Heather,’ Sean, one of Jamie’s mates, hollered across the room. ‘You got any cash on you?’ Heather turned around and glared at them, stuck her fingers up out of sight of Tammy and her family, then turned back again.
‘Sorry about them,’ she said. ‘Bunch of morons.’
‘They’re fine,’ Michelle said. ‘I’m Michelle, by the way.’
‘Heather.’
‘You two in the same class at school?’
‘For some subjects,’ Tammy mumbled, still embarrassed.
‘You settling in?’ Heather asked.
‘Getting there,’ Michelle replied. There was an awkward silence. Michelle sensed Heather wanted to go but didn’t want to appear rude. She tried to make it easier for her. ‘You’ll be wanting to get back to your friends.’
‘Hardly friends,’ she laughed. ‘That there’s my brother.’ She pointed to Jamie.
‘Oh, right.’
‘What you doing today?’ Tammy asked suddenly. Heather shrugged.
‘Not a lot. Hanging around town for a bit, I guess. Want to come?’
Tammy was up and out of her seat in a heartbeat. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said to Scott and Michelle. ‘I’ll keep in touch.’
‘Where will you be?’ Michelle asked.
‘Your place ain’t too far from mine,’ Heather answered quickly. ‘We live on the estate. We’ll walk back together later.’
‘Be careful,’ Scott warned. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’ But they were already gone. A few seconds later and the three boys left too. Scott looked concerned, Michelle less so.
‘We have to let her do this,’ she whispered to him. ‘If we’re going to settle in here, she has to make friends and have some freedom.’
‘Yes, but those lads...’
‘Are just normal lads, same as you were at that age. Besides, I think she’d eat them for breakfast.’
‘I don’t know. I’m not happy about this. What about all the trouble there’s been here?’
‘Ken Potter’s dead, remember?’ she whispered. ‘That’s all done now. And besides, it’s Saturday lunchtime and they’re in the middle of town. They’re safe.’
‘Ah, don’t worry,’ Mary said. Michelle looked up, startled. She hadn’t even realised she was standing next to their table, never mind that she was listening in on them. ‘Those boys are all noise, no trousers. They’ll give it all the attitude they can, but they’re good lads at heart. Now, can I get yous all anything else?’
‘No, we’re done, thanks,’ Michelle said. ‘Lovely meal.’ She meant it. The food had been perfect, just what she’d wanted despite all their original reservations and protestations. Funny how the satisfaction of a full stomach made them all feel a little more settled.
Michelle loaded George back into his pushchair then waited outside with Phoebe as Scott settled the bill.
#
They passed Tammy on the way home. She was walking along the side of the road with Heather. Jamie, Sean and Joel were following close behind. Tammy did what she could to pretend she hadn’t noticed the car, even when Scott beeped the horn, wound down his window and shouted at her.
Heather and Jamie lived on the grimy-looking council estate Scott had driven them through when they’d first arrived in Thussock. They could see it looming in the distance. Tammy said nothing about what she’d thought of the place that day. Back then it had seemed like something out of a documentary made in the seventies: rows of identical houses which might have been considered tasteful and modern when they’d originally been built, cutting-edge, but which were now hideously dated and impractical. All Tammy had seen last Saturday had been the overgrown gardens and the kids sitting on walls outside squat and ugly apartment blocks. She had to admit it didn’t look quite so bad today. Framed by the mountains in the distance and fields on either side, the place didn’t look as sprawling and endless as it initially had. Maybe it was because last week she’d been at the wrong end of a six and a half hour car journey? Maybe it was because she was on foot now and had time to look properly? Or then again, maybe it was because after a week here her standards were already slipping?
They stopped at the recreation ground, way before they reached the estate. At first Tammy was reluctant to hang around here. Loitering in kids’ playgrounds – that was the kind of thing chavs did back home. She’d given up on street corners years ago. Was this really what she’d been reduced to? Still, when she weighed up all her options and considered the alternatives, this was probably the best way of wasting time she could find. She quite liked Heather. She’d been talking inconsequential crap non-stop since leaving the café, going on about her boyfriend Chez (he’s nearly twenty, you know), and how many times they’d done it (he fucked me here by the swings one time... it was lush). Tammy was starting to think Heather could be shaped, that the only reason she was rough like this was because of a lack of similarly-aged female company. She decided she’d stick with her for a while and see how things went. Anyway – and there was no way she was going to say this out loud or admit it to anyone – she quite liked Jamie. He could be a real dick at times and he was way less mature than the boys she was used to back home, but he was quite cute. The best of a bad bunch. Better than nothing.
Tammy and Heather sat talking on opposite sides of the slowly spinning roundabout, occasional one-footed pushes keeping them moving. Behind them, Jamie and his mates chucked stones at the metal bins down the side of the community hall. ‘Hey, Graham,’ the weasel-faced one – Joel – yelled. Tammy looked up, still spinning around, and saw a man walking across the bottom edge of the recreation ground at speed, head down, doing all he could to ignore the torrent of abuse Joel was now hurling at him. He had a Co-op carrier bag clutched tight to his chest and he refused to look anywhere but directly ahead. Tammy thought he looked familiar.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Just Graham,’ Heather told her. ‘Bit of an odd-ball. Works at the Co-op. Mops the floors and collects the trolleys.’
That was where she knew him from – he was the one who’d found Scott’s wallet and brought it out to him.
Joel ran after Graham, sprinting down the hill and cutting him off, blocking his way through. ‘Where you goin’, Graham mate?’
‘Home,’ Graham said, head still down, refusing to make eye-contact. He tried to side-step Joel, but Joel anticipated and got in his way again.
‘What’s in your bag? Got any food?’
Graham clutched the bag tighter. ‘Just my dinner.’
‘Leave him alone, Joel,’ Jamie shouted, his intervention surprising everyone.
Joel looked up and grinned. ‘Just chattin’ wi’ me mate.’
Graham tried to pass him again, this time managing to get through. Joel ruffled his hair as he passed, then watched him walk away, now so fast he was almost running.
And again,
Tammy’s heart sank. Is this really the best I can do? Hanging around in a park, watching a moron hurl abuse at the village idiot? It hurt. Christ, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so low before, not even when Mum and Dad had first split up. She walked away, trying hard not to let Heather see she was crying.
‘Wassup Tam?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You missing home?’ she asked with surprising perception. Tammy nodded, then the floodgates opened. ‘Come on,’ Heather said, getting up and putting her arm around Tammy’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to mine.’
They walked towards the estate, passing Joel as he came running back up the hill they were walking down. ‘Lesbians,’ he shouted at them.
‘Fuck off,’ Heather shouted back.
‘That’s my sister, you prick,’ Jamie said, and he booted Joel in the backside then chased him around the back of the community hall.
#
Tammy managed to get a text through to say where she was going, then phoned Michelle a few hours later, asking for a lift home. ‘Have you seen the car keys?’ Michelle asked.
‘I’ve got them,’ Scott said, tapping his pocket. ‘Why?’
‘Tam needs picking up.’
‘I’ll get her.’
‘It’s okay. It’s just around the corner.’
‘Did you not hear me? I said I’ll get her. Give me the address.’
Michelle did as he said. It wasn’t worth arguing.
11
Sunday afternoon. Michelle didn’t know how much more of today she could take. George had picked up a cold – probably from the change of surroundings or mixing with new kids, she thought – and he was making life hell for everyone, moaning and grizzling and constantly demanding attention. Tammy and Phoebe were bickering about something, probably nothing, and now Scott was making a hell of a noise downstairs. She dumped George in with the girls and went to see what he was doing. She found him in the kitchen, shifting furniture. She tripped over a bucketful of tools he’d left in the doorway.