The Frog Theory

by Fiona Mordaunt

  ‘You tried to get hold of Jackie!’ Flow said through clenched teeth.

  There was a moment while it sank in.

  ‘Like fuck I did!’ Kim sneered, smacking Flow’s hands away from him so that he stood fully on his feet once more, his shirt relocating somewhere around his neck. He wasn’t going to show Flow up by saying Jackie had been the one to try it on with him so he walked off, blood dripping down his front.

  ‘That’s it, Kim, walk off like you always do,’ shouted Sheema. ‘You fucking prick!’

  Job interview

  Kim looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eye was beginning to go down now and his nose definitely wasn’t broken.

  Ryan had put him and Pat up for a building job in the New Forest and he didn’t want to look like he’d done a couple of rounds with Lennox Lewis.

  He was grateful to Ryan for coming up with the idea because a couple of weeks away were exactly what he needed right about now. It was an example of how Ryan could be an unexpectedly good and thoughtful mate at times.

  ‘Not too bashed up, then,’ said Ryan when he opened the door to him. ‘What was the story there?’

  ‘Misunderstanding,’ answered Kim.

  ‘Suit yourself if you don’t want to talk about it, the old man’s in the kitchen.’

  Kim walked confidently through to find Mick sitting at the table.

  ‘You’ve grown! Haven’t seen you since you was a nipper.’

  ‘Ryan said you might have some work for me.’ Kim ignored the silly comment; of course he’d grown and Mick had seen him, plenty of times, he could be odd like that.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got some work building camping conveniences.’

  Mick looked Kim up and down. Half the kids on the estate were on drugs and would nick what they could and scarper as soon as your back was turned. ‘Are you a drug user?’

  ‘What?’ Kim wasn’t sure whether he had heard correctly.

  ‘You know, on the old wacky backy?’

  ‘Oh, that! Not me, mate!’

  ‘Where d’ya get the black eye?’

  Ryan walked in and snapped the kettle on.

  ‘Flow’s bird made out he was trying to shag it!’

  Ryan always knew the score.

  ‘And was he?’ Mick was hooked on the story for a moment.

  ‘Nah!’ Ryan exchanged a glance with Kim. ‘Tea?’ he asked, waving a box of PG tips.

  As they got further away from London Kim watched the road passing by and tried to shake the memory of the fight out of his mind. It was the first time in his life that he had fallen out with Flow and, since he was family to him, it was hurtful at a core level.

  What was he to do, though? He couldn’t tell his best mate that his girlfriend had offered him sex.

  Besides, he had told Flow after the punch that he hadn’t touched Jackie so Flow could work it out for himself, especially if Ryan had managed to.

  ‘Do you think they’ll be any nice birds in the New Forest?’ said Pat.

  ‘You wouldn’t be able to pull a nice bird if you had one tied to a trolley with wheels on!’ said Ryan.

  Pat tried to work out a retaliation and failed. Eventually he replied by making a wanking movement with his hand and slowly the banter going back and forth took Kim’s mind away from himself.

  The principal

  ‘I thought we could do something today, Mum,’ her daughter said nervously.

  ‘Like what, darling?’ The principal took a sip of her coffee, trying not to think about how much Emily looked like her father. She hated it when her children came home from boarding school. Thankfully, her son stayed in bed in the mornings but her daughter would hang around like she wanted something.

  ‘Well…’ said Emily, ‘like, anything… I could go to the college with you and help’.

  ‘No!’ said her mother more abruptly than she meant to, trying to ignore the fact that Emily was fighting back tears. ‘What about Matilda? Couldn’t you go somewhere with her today?’ she said more gently. Matilda was one of Emily’s best friends.

  ‘I want to go somewhere with you,’ she shouted. ‘You’re always too busy with that… that fucking college!’

  ‘I don’t think swearing’s going to help anything,’ said the principal, calmly.

  ‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!’ Emily challenged, defiantly.

  The principal got up to leave.

  ‘Hopefully when I come home you’ll be in a better mood,’ she said, leaving the rest of her coffee. She’d get some more on the way to the station where she could drink it in peace.

  Dear Diary,

  Me again, in a state as usual. I’ve got these pills from the doctor, now, they calm me down. It says to take one but I have taken two with a massive glass of wine. I told Hugo I had one of my migraines and was taking a bath. He doesn’t care, I think he’s relieved not to be in the same room as me for a while, happy watching his beloved TV in bed…

  Chuck me a rope

  As usual, her mum and Hugo had made themselves scarce and Clate was left alone, bored and frustrated. She paced the house, wondering what to do with herself and spotted Hugo’s packet of cigarettes on the side table in the sitting room. She took one out of the packet then helped herself to a large glass of red wine from the wine box in the kitchen and went up to her bedroom, where she leant out of the window.

  Tentatively, she took some smoke in and didn’t even cough, it was all right! She breathed in the warm night air with the smoke then blew it out gently; she took a big gulp of the red wine, holding it in her mouth for a while to get the flavour before she swallowed it.

  The moon was out and she could hear the distant voices of people enjoying themselves. She imagined the bars brimming, parties heaving, romantic dinners being eaten. She could even see some people drinking champagne on a roof garden not far away and she wanted to shout ‘Over here! Chuck me a rope!’

  In theory, she could just leave home. She was eighteen. But where would she go? Hugo may be a bastard and her mother may be a fence sitter but they were the only family she had.

  Besides, she had this niggling feeling that somehow it was her fault they treated her the way they did. It was stupid, and nobody would understand, but she was sure there was some reason for it, otherwise why didn’t her mother stick up for her?

  New Forest

  The break and change of scene was doing Kim good. Sun, fresh air, physical labour; it kept his mind off other things.

  In the evenings they would go to the local pub for dinner and a couple of pints, have a bit of a laugh. There were plenty of holidaymakers around and everyone was out to have a good time, so Kim wasn’t best pleased to find Jackie standing in front of him while he was still working, reminding him of all he had left at home.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ he said rudely.

  ‘Well thanks a lot!’ said Jackie, pouting. ‘I came to say I was sorry about the fight and the misunderstanding.’

  ‘Misunderstanding?’ said Kim incredulously.

  ‘Yes, misunderstanding!’ said Jackie, holding her ground. ‘Flow asked if we’d been alone in my bedroom and you tell me what I was meant to say?’ She put on her best innocent expression. ‘We didn’t have anything to hide.’

  ‘You tried to get off with me!’

  ‘That never crossed my mind, I don’t know what made you think that,’ said Jackie, brushing it off. ‘Make up with him when you come back to London, he really wants to. We’ve got everything worked out now, be a shame to spoil it all, I don’t want him kicking off again… I didn’t want him to hit you but there was nothing I could do about it.’

  ‘Good story,’ said Kim, seething that she could imply that Flow was violent by nature.

  ‘I love Flow but has he a temper, you just don’t see it, he scares me. Sometimes I think he’s going to hit me.’

  ‘I’ve known Flow since he was a kid and there’s never been a violent streak in his body,’ said Kim. ‘You’re making him out to be some sort of monster
when the only reason he hit me is because you told him I’d tried to get hold of you and you know it – you have to twist everything, Jackie.’

  ‘That’s not true, you don’t see him when we’re alone, he’s different, he gets jealous.’

  ‘Fuck off!’ said Kim. ‘You’re a liar. I’m not going to say anything to Flow… make it worse. You’d get out of it, you always do.’

  If he didn’t make up with her he risked his most important friendship. Just knowing that Flow wanted to make up had lifted an unspeakable weight, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the base feelings she evoked in him.

  He got about three inches from her face and lowered his voice menacingly. ‘I said it before, Jackie, and I’ll say it again. Flow will see through you in his own good time.’

  She bit her lip with rage; Kim had never liked her and she hated it.

  ‘I never tried to get off with you, Kim, you just think you’re God’s fucking gift and, oh yeah, forgot to tell you, Leigh’s pregnant!’ she finished bitterly.

  She watched with satisfaction as his face fell before stalking off.

  Later, in Ryan’s tent

  ‘Nobody does it like you!’ he panted. ‘Oh, baby, don’t stop… shit, don’t stop… you stopped!’

  ‘Yeah, until you tell me what the fuck took you so long.’

  ‘I didn’t want to make it obvious, did I? So I stayed drinking with the lads so they wouldn’t suspect.’

  He didn’t mention that he’d also been fixing up a date with a girl for the following night.

  ‘You could have said you were ill or something, I’ve been stuck in this sodding tent all night waiting for you!’ she said, turning her back and crossing her arms.

  ‘Jackie, come on, I was only thinking of you, babe!’

  ‘Really?’ she said, turning slightly.

  ‘Really… and considering you tried to get hold of Kim I think I’m the one who should be annoyed here, don’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t try to get hold of Kim, how many times have I got to say? That bloke just can’t get it into his head that not every girl in the world…’

  ‘Come here!’ interrupted Ryan, pulling her towards him. He felt bad on Flow but Flow wasn’t going to find out and it had been Jackie who had come onto him a couple of months back.

  The party

  Every year, at the end of the summer, Flow’s nan, Maureen, hired out the British Legion and threw a party for her birthday. Flow and Kim had been to them every year of their lives, as had most of the kids on the estate; it was an institution.

  Maureen’s party was the perfect place for Kim to get things sorted with Flow – neutral ground and a familiar atmosphere that was all about friendship and family.

  Kim felt the cash in his pocket from the New Forest job, absentmindedly traced the scar on the side of his head where one of his mum’s clients had knocked him unconscious on the pedal of a bicycle when he was seven, then put a substantial wad of notes in an envelope and shoved it through Leigh’s letter box before making his way to the party.

  Ordinarily, Maureen would have been at the party first to welcome everyone. This year, however, she had been asked for a favour by one of her clients, a fella called Hugo. He wanted her to watch his stepdaughter, Clate, while he and his wife went to a drinks party. As if Clate (what kind of a name was that?) needed watching aged eighteen or whatever she was.

  Maureen had cleaned their house for years and she didn’t like Hugo, truth be told, or the way he spoke to Clate; a shy, unconfident thing that she often yearned to rescue, so she had said yes, as long as they didn’t mind her being dragged to a seventieth birthday party. They didn’t mind.

  ‘Hi Maureen,’ Clate said shyly when the old lady came to pick her up.

  The British Legion wasn’t very far; they were travelling on foot.

  ‘I hope you’re going to have a good time, love,’ Maureen got the feeling Hugo wouldn’t like the idea of Clate having a good time.

  ‘Anything’s got to be better than that house!’ Clate felt guilty as soon as the unexpected words were out. She went red.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me saying anything to anybody ’cos I won’t,’ whispered Maureen, conspiratorially. ‘I didn’t tell your lot but it’s my birthday and there’s plenty of young folk there… It’s quite an event.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Clate, ‘I didn’t realise… happy birthday!’

  ‘Thanks, love, you’re a good girl, I’ve always known it!’ She linked her arm into Clate’s quite naturally as they ambled along, chatting easily.

  Her unexpected kindness lifted Clate and she began to cheer up. Maybe the night wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Flow was at the bar with Jackie, who looked Kim straight in the eye as he approached, a little smile playing just for him. He felt a surge of hate rise in his chest.

  ‘Wanna go and powder your nose, Jacks?’ Flow pointedly suggested, wanting to see Kim on his own so that they could straighten out their troubles. He’d been pretty sure Kim would show for the party. ‘So, how’ve you been?’

  ‘I’ll be better for a pint.’ Kim tried to catch the barman’s eye.

  ‘I’ve heard your news,’ said Flow when Kim had got the drinks in. ‘Leigh up the duff and Sheema spitting nails!’ Kim grimaced and took a few gulps of his pint.

  ‘Thanks for the recap!’

  ‘About the fight,’ Flow began awkwardly. ‘I was out of order… I owe you an apology.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Kim, nodding. ‘Forget it.’

  ‘Yeah, well…’ he continued, ‘I feel gutted about it, going off like that, but Jackie finally told me what really happened and we’ve sorted things.’

  ‘Good… I’m glad.’ He wondered what shit Jackie had filled his head with this time.

  ‘Yeah… we’ve decided to get married.’

  ‘Pttttttttter!’ Kim unintentionally spat a fountain of beer across the bar. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Well… since she asked me!’ Flow laughed nervously, looking at the mess.

  ‘Congratulations,’ muttered Kim, mopping half-heartedly with a beer mat. ‘Any idea when?’

  ‘Oh… you know, we’re not in a hurry, I mean… well, a couple of years or something, we haven’t really thought it through.’

  The barman came over with a proper cloth and began to clean up briskly. They both watched, grateful for the distraction.

  ‘Went down the wrong way,’ explained Kim to the barman, by way of apology.

  ‘Happens,’ the barman replied pleasantly, already done and pulling another drink.

  Jackie came back over and Flow gave her a kiss. ‘You heard our news, then?’ She nestled into the crook of Flow’s arm.

  ‘Sure did.’ Kim fixed a smile on his face. ‘Sure did.’ He drained the last of his beer in a single long swallow, beckoning the barman for a refill.

  ‘Ay up, what’s this?’ Jackie eyed Maureen, steering someone towards them.

  ‘This is Clate,’ Maureen said, ‘and I want you to look after her as a personal favour to me.’ She grabbed Flow’s cheeks and gave him a kiss. ‘Isn’t he lovely? My youngest grandson and just look at the size of him!’ She grabbed Kim’s cheeks then and ruffled his hair as if he were a small child, although she could hardly reach his hair. ‘Jackie!’ she acknowledged politely, her face suddenly less friendly.

  ‘Hap-pee birthday, Nan!’ said Flow, picking her up and swinging her around as she squealed and protested.

  ‘Happy birthday, Maureen!’ said Kim, when Flow had finally put her down, ‘what are you drinking?’

  ‘Don’t worry, my love, I’ll sort myself out,’ she said, as various friends began to descend on her. ‘Just look after Clate for me,’ she said sternly, leaving them to it.

  Kim looked Clate up and down. She was medium height and dying of embarrassment. She had long, blondish hair, which was covering most of her face, and she was wearing a shapeless dress, which didn’t give any clue as to what her figure might be like.

  ‘You look
like Cousin Itt off The Munsters under all that hair,’ said Kim, as an ill-chosen icebreaker.

  ‘I think you’ll find that Cousin Itt featured in The Addams Family, actually,’ she replied tartly.

  La di da! Thought Kim, Jackie and Flow simultaneously.

  ‘He was only kidding,’ said Flow, trying to save the day. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Sauvignon blanc, please,’ said Clate, without thinking much. It was the only white wine she had heard of.

  ‘Errrrrr…’ said Flow, exchanging glances with Kim. ‘I’m not sure they’ll feature any of that at this bar! It’s a white wine, isn’t it?’

  ‘Actually, I’ll have whatever you’re drinking,’ she said, eager to get the attention away from herself as soon as possible.

  ‘A pint of lager?’

  ‘No… not that…’ She looked at Jackie’s drink. ‘What are you drinking?’ she asked shyly, in a glazed millisecond taking in Jackie’s dark good looks and beautifully fitted top and skirt combo, complementing her curvy, compact figure. Her bra strap was showing and it was red. Clate had never owned red underwear.

  ‘Vodka and lemonade,’ said Jackie, still looking her up and down.

  ‘I’ll have one of those, then,’ she said, going red again as Flow beckoned for the barman.

  They stood in embarrassed silence and Clate stared downwards at Jackie’s shapely legs, black strappy high sandals wrapped around neat feet sporting immaculately polished red toenails, Flow’s well-worn trainers that looked loved and comfortable below some sort of dark trousers.

  ‘So… what brings you here?’ said Jackie at last. Clate looked up, flicking her hair out of her face.

  Kim couldn’t work out whether she was beautiful or ugly; she had the kind of looks that needed a second opinion.

  ‘My mum and stepdad asked Maureen to keep an eye on me because they didn’t want me in the house on my own. I’m grounded,’ she finished lamely, retreating behind her hair again.