I grabbed me sports bag, climbed in the back of FB’s Range Rover, fastened me seat belt, and we were off. Kept quizzing me brain. Give me an answer, give me an answer. But just like in school, nothing there. Me brain was officially broken.
FB drove into the school car park, fast, the way he does. We all got out. I was the slowest. Still thinking. Then an idea leaped into me head. Hoped it would work.
‘Mam, I don’t want you to see me off.’
‘Why not?’ she said, surprised.
Before I could tell her me lie, FB came to the rescue again.
‘He’s a teenager now, Kim. He doesn’t want his mummy waving goodbye.’
I knew me mam wouldn’t dare disagree with him.
‘Suppose you’re right. If that’s what you want, Danny.’
Smiled. It’s definitely what I want.
‘Giz a hug, then,’ she said.
I put me bag down and gave her a gigantic bear hug. I didn’t want to let go. I was scared, for her, for me.
‘I hope you’re okay, Mam,’ I whispered in her ear.
‘I’ll be fine, Danny.’
Looked over to make sure Callum wasn’t listening. He was busy with a chamois leather on his wing mirror.
‘If he tries anything, run out of the house. Don’t let him hurt you.’
‘Everything’s gonna be okay.’
‘Call Aunty Tina if he starts going mental.’
‘I’m okay, Danny.’
Me mam was a bigger liar than me.
‘I’ll give you a call every night,’ I said.
‘That would be great.’
I finally let her go.
‘I’ll miss you, Danny.’
‘I’ll miss you too, Mam.’
‘Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
FB put his chamois down, walked over, and ruffled me hair with his fat hands, the way he does.
‘Have a good trip, General,’ he said. ‘And try not to fall in any lakes.’
‘Thanks, Callum.’
We stood still, looking at each other for ages, like we’d become photographs. Then I looked at the car. They got the hint. Me mam and FB each gave a little wave and walked off. Then she spotted Barry’s mam. Looked like she wanted to talk to her, but Callum took her arm and walked her back to the car. They climbed in.
I needed them to disappear.
Saw me mam sitting there, looking sad. FB finally started the engine and drove off dead quick, just missing Mrs Darby, the music teacher.
Gone.
I waited till they’d turned into a speck before going towards the coaches parked in front of school. Mr Hetherington was checking names off a clipboard. Was so nervous I could hardy breathe. Mam had told the school I was up for the trip. I had to tell them different.
Joined the queue.
‘What’s that on your back?’ said Mr Hetherington to Neil Thomas, a kid with a rucksack nearly as big as him. ‘We’re going to Cumbria, not climbing Mount Everest. Put your luggage in the coach and get on.’
Mr Hetherington crossed Neil’s name off his list.
‘That’s a more sensible amount of luggage, Croft,’ he said, looking at me bag.
‘Thanks, sir, but I can’t go, sir.’
Mr Hetherington hardly ever looks baffled, but he did now. ‘Can’t go? Why ever not?’
‘Me gran’s ill. I need to go and see her,’ I said, super quick. You need to get lies out fast, so no one can spot them.
‘Why have you brought that, then?’ he said, looking at me bag.
‘So I can stay over at her place.’
Could tell Mr Hetherington wanted to ask more questions. That’s what teachers love doing. But a big queue had built up behind me. The coach was already late.
‘Well, I’m really sorry to hear that, Danny.’ I tried to look sad, instead of scared, which is what I really was. ‘Maybe you can come on next year’s trip,’ he said. ‘We’re going to Scotland.’
Typical.
I picked up me bag and hurried away.
‘Danny, where are you going?’
I turned. It was Amy.
‘I cannit go on the trip.’
‘Why not?’ she said, her face crumpling.
Told her about me gran, the one with the imaginary illness.
‘Oh, Danny, our first chance to go away together.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I’d upset me mam. I’d upset Amy. Was that all I was good for? Upsetting people?
‘Call me,’ I said.
‘I can’t. They’ve said no phones on the trip. We can only borrow one in case of an emergency.’
A week away from Amy, and I couldn’t even hear her voice. It was going to be torture. Had a quick look round to see that no one was watching and gave her hand a squeeze.
‘Love you,’ she mouthed.
‘Love you too,’ I mouthed back.
She hurried on to the coach. I turned and hurried across the car park.
‘The coaches are that way, ya dafty.’
It was Lanky Dave, a plaster over his scar.
‘I’m not going on the trip,’ I said.
‘Shame. I was looking forward to pushing you off a cliff.’ Then a wicked smile crossed his face. ‘On second thoughts, that is fan-tastic news. Me and Amy Reynolds together for a whole week. Lush.’
Lanky Dave headed for the coach, whistling.
I clenched me fists.
Nineteen
•
‘Edinburgh, please.’
‘Single?’
‘Aye, just me.’
The gadgie behind the glass glared at me.
‘Single is one way. Return means you’re coming back.’
‘Aye, I’m coming back.’
‘When?’
‘Next Saturday.’
‘How old are you, son?’
‘Seventeen.’
He looked at his computer and then at me again. ‘Someone meeting you in Scotland?’
‘Aye, me dad.’
He seemed happy enough with me answer. I gave him some money and he gave me the tickets.
He looked at his screen. ‘There’s a train in fifteen minutes.’
Even though I’d escaped the school trip, me heart hadn’t stopped punching me chest all morning, like it had had enough of this stupid game and wanted out. It got even faster when I spotted a couple of coppers near the barriers. Don’t know why. I hadn’t done anything. Yet.
Found Platform Two. It was choc-a-bloc with people going away on holiday or for their jobs. I bet none of them were going to Edinburgh to do what I was going to do. I felt petrified just thinking about it, but it was too late to go back now.
The Edinburgh train pulled in. Got on and looked for an empty seat but couldn’t find one anywhere. How crap is that? Pay all that money for a ticket and you don’t even get a seat. That doesn’t happen at the pictures, or McDonald’s. Found a space on the floor near the toilets and sat on me bag. Two goths sat near me, students by the look. He had a goatee and she had dead long black hair and some metal in her nose. They were holding hands, kissing, touching. The girl’s skin was smooth and white, like the tiles at the swimming baths. It didn’t look like he’d ever bashed her.
Even though I hadn’t eaten me breakfast I still felt sick. I was going a hundred and four miles to find a bloke I’d never met before to ask him to kill someone he’d never met before. Enough to make anyone want to puke. Me thoughts drifted off to Amy. I hoped she’d got a seat far away from Lanky Dave. Then I thought about me mam. FB had stopped her talking to Barry’s mam. Would that put him in a mood? Was it enough to make him hit her?
Me bad thoughts were interrupted by a woman in a uniform shouting, ‘Passengers from Newcastle.’ I felt nervous again, like she knew what I was up to and would turn the train around. Not sure trains can do that, but they’d probably give it a good go. She looked down at me with a nothing face on, the way teachers do when they hand back your homework. I gave her me ticket. She cl
icked it with her clicker and gave it back. She didn’t say a word, just went on. I let out me breath. The trip was proving a lot scarier than I thought.
Stood up and saw green fields flying past. Then I caught sight of the sea. I felt happy to spot that. Don’t know why. Just did. I like the sea, me.
But the closer we got to Edinburgh the tighter me guts got. Bad thoughts crawled like worms inside me head. What if me dad’s not there? What if he just slams the door in me face? What if he calls the police and tells them to take me back? I’d never thought any of these things before. Wish I’d never thought of them now.
Before I could worry meself stupid a woman’s voice said, ‘We are now approaching Edinburgh Waverley. Next stop: Edinburgh Waverley station.’
Here we go.
Edinburgh moved past quick, then slowed right down, then stopped, as if to say, I’m ready for you now, bonny lad. I picked up me bag and followed the kissing couple off the train and on to the platform. People were hurrying all over the place, like they knew where they were hurrying to. I didn’t have a clue. There were loads of steps and bridges and escalators. No idea where they went, so I just kept following the crowds.
Went up an escalator and found meself outside on a street full of shops. I wondered if this was really Scotland. Hadn’t seen one bloke in a skirt yet. But then I spotted one, outside a hotel. He had a skirt and a tartan blazer on. He looked dead Scotch.
Edinburgh didn’t look really different, like Africa or somewhere, but it was different enough to make me feel scared. I didn’t know the first thing about the place or how far away me dad lived. Checked on me phone. His house was way too far to walk. There were loads of buses going past but they all had weird names on the front. Decided to get a taxi. Only been in one a couple of times. No idea how much they cost. But thanks to Callum I was minted.
Climbed in.
‘Where to, laddie?’
The driver spoke dead Scotch. I got the paper from me pocket. ‘Steve Rivers. 9 Redwood Gardens, Newington, Edinburgh, marra.’
The driver grinned and drove off. I fastened me seat belt in case he drove nutty like FB.
‘So you’re a Geordie?’ he said.
‘Aye.’
‘What brings you to Scotland?’
‘Come to see me dad.’
‘Does he work up here?’
‘Think so.’
The Scotchman seemed confused by me answer and stopped asking questions. I looked out of the taxi window and saw a big castle on a hill. Funny how Newcastle doesn’t have a castle and a town that isn’t called Castle does. Edinburgh seemed to have hills all around it. I hoped it had a lake. Then I could take a picture of it, pretend it was the Lake District, and send it to me mam.
After driving for a bit, we turned off a big road down a smaller one full of massive stone houses. Then I saw a sign: Redwood Gardens. This was it.
I got the envelope from me jacket and paid the bloke. He said something so Scotch I couldn’t make out a word. Gave him a bit more money in case he was swearing at me.
Grabbed me bag, climbed out the taxi and spotted number nine, a gigantic stone house across the street. Grinned. Me dad must have a great job to afford this. I walked up a long path to the red front door and saw a metal panel, with lots of names on it. What a wazzock. ’Course me dad didn’t own the house, he lived in a flat. Aunty Tina had forgot to put that on the paper.
I spotted the name on the plate – S Rivers. I’d found him. Took a deep breath, like I was jumping off the pier at Whitley Bay, and pressed the button.
Nowt.
Pressed again.
Nowt.
Waited twenty seconds. Third time lucky?
Na.
It was Sunday. Me dad wouldn’t work today, would he? S’pose he might. I let loose a groan. What if he works on a ship, or the oil rigs, or in the army? He might not be home for months. I only had six days. I thought of pressing the other buttons and asking the neighbours where he’d gone, but they’d probably tell me to get lost or worse, call the coppers. I was just going to have to wait.
I went to the other side of the road and sat on a wall so I could watch who came to the front door, like detectives do on telly. It was dead boring. I tried to see how long I could go without looking at me watch. The longest was eighteen minutes, the shortest was twenty seconds. Don’t think I’ll ever be a detective.
A fat woman with three big plastic bags went in at 1.48 p.m. A girl with a tattoo on her neck went in at 2.16 p.m. Two kids in Man U tops went in at 3.15 p.m. Man U in Scotland? They’re everywhere. Then an old bloke with a bent back and bandy legs went in at 3.27 p.m. Couldn’t be me dad, could it? Never imagine me mam having a bairn with that.
By now I was clammin. Why didn’t I get me mam to make me some bait? I didn’t want to go look for a shop in case I missed him, so I just sat and watched house nine. Just waiting, waiting, waiting. I remember once going to bingo with me mam. I was waiting for one number – fourteen. It never came. Waiting for nine was like that.
Before long it got dark.
I was starting to hate this place.
6.36 p.m. to 7.45 p.m. Four more people came to the door, two newspaper boys on bikes, a little woman with a limp, and a gadgie with a walking stick. But no one who looked like he might be me dad.
7.49 p.m. Spotted a bloke walking down the street carrying a plastic bag. Couldn’t tell what he was like in the dark, just that he was a bloke. I crossed me fingers.
‘Go into nine, go into nine,’ I whispered.
Crossed fingers did it.
The bloke turned up the path towards the door. I jumped off the wall, grabbed me bag and ran over the road. Got closer. It was still too dark to make him out. The bloke took a key from his pocket and went for the lock.
This time, please.
‘Steve?’
He turned. There was just enough light to see him. He had a young face.
‘Aye.’
‘Steve Rivers?’
‘Aye.’ He looked confused. ‘Who are you?’
Swallowed what little spit I could find.
‘Me name’s Danny. I’m your son.’
Twenty
• •
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he shouted, in Scotch.
Not the welcome I was expecting.
‘I’ve come to see you.’
‘Why?’
‘I just have.’
‘Heaven help me.’
Me dad wasn’t the only one in shock. I was too. He was nothing like I’d expected him to be. I thought me dad would be big – everywhere. Big head, big arms, big body, the lot, like the dads you see at school. But he was short and skinny, not even a beer belly. I also thought he’d be older, bald maybe, with a beard, but he had a baby face. He didn’t look much older than me.
He stared at me for a long time, probably hoping I’d disappear, but I didn’t, I just stood there, looking back at him. He seemed really panicked, scanning the street with quick looks.
‘You’d better come in,’ he said.
I followed him into the stone house. The hall was cold, like being outside, a couple of rusty old bikes up against a wall, paint falling off the walls, and the floor carpeted in junk mail. He turned on a light and we went up stair after stair after stair till we came to a landing. Saw a sign. Flat C. Rivers. This was where he lived.
He got his key out and opened his front door. The builders had forgotten to put a hall in. We went straight from outside into the front room. The flat was even smaller than the place me mam and me used to live in. Looked about. But there wasn’t much to see. One titchy sofa, a chair, a telly, a table. That was it. So much for me dad being minted.
‘Sit,’ said Steve, as if I was a dog.
He looked mad, like FB does when he gets spit on his lips. Hoped he wouldn’t hit me.
‘Did she send you?’ he went, putting his plastic bag on the floor. I guessed ‘she’ was me mam.
‘Na.’
Steve looked e
ven more confused.
‘You came here on your own?’
Nodded. I thought he might be proud of that, but he wasn’t.
‘For crying out loud,’ he went. ‘She hasn’t moved up here, has she?’
‘Na, still lives in Gateshead.’
‘Does she know where you’ve gone?’
‘Na.’
He gave his watch a worried look.
‘It’s nearly eight o’clock. She’ll be wondering where the hell you are. She’ll call the pollis.’
‘No, she won’t. She thinks I’m on the school trip.’
‘What school trip?’
‘The one I’m meant to be on in the Lake District.’
‘Won’t your teachers know you’re missing?’
‘No, they think I’ve gone to me gran’s.’
‘This is doing my wee head in.’ Steve flopped down next to me. ‘Who told you I was here?’ he said, angry. ‘Who told you?’
Didn’t want to tell him, but thought I’d better.
‘Aunty Tina.’
‘Who the hell’s that?’
‘Me mam’s sister.’
Me dad rubbed his little chin, as he took it all in. ‘Tina Croft. She was a mate of my sister. Didn’t even know those two were still in touch.’ He bit a fingernail. ‘Seems like you can’t trust anyone any more.’
Always thought me mam must have told Aunty Tina where me dad lived. Maybe she had no idea where he’d gone.
Me dad turned back to me.
‘So what in God’s name have you come here for?’
Didn’t want to tell him. Too early for that.
‘Just wanted to see me dad.’
‘Well, you’ve seen him. Now you can clear off back to Gateshead.’
This was not how I’d expected things to go. Thought I’d get to Edinburgh and find me dad, me big dad. He’d give me a massive hug, tell me all the things he’d done, then he’d make me tea, we’d watch some telly, then I’d tell him what I wanted from him. He’d say, ‘Why aye, son,’ and that would be that. I hadn’t expected this, not in me worst dreams. I didn’t want to look at him, me small, skinny, angry dad, so I stared at the floor instead.
Crying is so embarrassing. It’s like being sick before you can make it to the bog. But sometimes, even though you try with all your might, you just can’t stop it. I’d tricked me mam, I’d tricked FB, I’d tricked the school, I’d tricked Amy, I’d come all the way to Scotland to find me dad, and guess what? He didn’t want to see me. On top of that I was scared and tired and hungry. If that’s not worth crying for, nothing is.
Me Mam. Me Dad. Me Page 7