“From what I reckon,” Eric said, giving his balls a scratch, “in the region of fifteen grand.”
Noah stopped breathing.
Dear God, how the hell had his parents managed to rack up that sort of debt?
No. This could not be allowed to happen.
He fixed Eric with a steely stare. “You’re telling me this, so what’s the plan? You must have a plan.”
“Empty the shed.”
“What?”
“That was three words, Noah. Which one didn’t you understand?”
“You want me to empty our shed? What, to sell the contents?
Eric raised an eyebrow. “Valuables in there, is there?”
“I’m not sure… I mean, there’s my old bike from when I was ten…”
“Not even,” Eric said, shaking his head. “The only bike in there is a pink one with silver streamers and a Hello Kitty basket… Oh.”
“My loyal steed,” Noah said. “It served me well.”
“Look, I ain’t got time for this. Just shift your shit out of the shed. I don’t care where and I don’t care what you do with it.”
“That’s it? That will solve our financial crisis?”
“It’ll help,” Eric said.
“But how?”
Eric slid off the desk and came round to where Noah was standing, so they were almost nose to nose. “You don’t want to know –” Noah could smell Eric’s Monster Munch breath – vile “– because the less you know, the more you can stay out of trouble.”
He did have a point: whatever Eric was up to, Noah wanted no part of it. He stared into Eric’s dark brown eyes, then down at the light fuzz that was blooming on his top lip. Huh. How come Eric had some facial hair coming, and not Noah?
“Fine,” Noah said. “I’ll do it at the weekend.”
“No. Tonight.”
“Fine! Tonight! God! I love how you think I can just clear my schedule to accommodate your whims! Some of us are actually trying to complete coursework whilst entertaining French exchange students, you know?”
“Speaking of which, you should probably get over to the changing room,” Eric said.
“Why?”
“Because Pierre Victoire will probably be just getting out of the showers by now. Don’t want Harry’s eye to wander, do we?”
“What?! It wouldn’t!” Noah cried, outraged – outraged! – at the preposterous notion.
He casually stepped back towards the door. “Nevertheless, I probably should head over there anyway. Change out of these clothes and all.”
“See you later, Noah. Can’t wait to see my nice empty shed later tonight.”
“You’re not going to do something … criminal there, are you?”
“Just go.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Pierre stood in the middle of the changing room, a towel dangling from the fingers of one hand and the rest of him completely naked.
Noah hovered in the doorway, appalled. There wasn’t a scrap of clothing on the Frenchman. Not a thread. Not so much as an atom of cotton was attached to his nubile and toned body, which was also glistening from having recently emerged from the showers.
And yet Pierre was totally OK with that.
Intolerable.
“Yes,” Pierre was saying, gesticulating with his hand that wasn’t holding the towel, “although my favourite ballet is La Bayadère, of course. Considered by many to be Petipa’s greatest work.”
Noah glanced across to where Harry was sitting on the wooden bench, already back in his uniform and rooting inside the rucksack on his lap.
Noah narrowed his eyes. Oh yes, he saw this for what it was, all right! Noah had used that strategic rucksack trick several times! And was it just a coincidence that Harry was using it now, with a naked and moist Pierre parading around in front of him, his boy bits on display for everyone to gawk at?
“Huh, I’ve not been to the ballet,” Harry said. “My parents have. They went down to London to see something at the Royal Opera House…”
“Ah! A beautiful place!” Pierre said, languidly drying his testicles with the towel.
“Uh-huh…” Harry muttered.
Noah saw red. “Right, everyone!” he shouted, striding towards them. “I’m back and here. Hello, Harry. Hello, Pierre. Pierre, I see that you are naked. Very naked. That’s fine and au naturel and all, but I think you should aim to put some pants on.”
Pierre laughed. “Noah! It is good you have come, we were just talking about the ballet.”
“Were you?” Noah nodded. “Were you, indeed? Well, that’s all very nice.” Noah allowed his eyes to drift down, past Pierre’s abs and shaved pubes to his absolutely enormous… Noah swallowed hard. Gosh, really, now? That was … my goodness.
“All very nice,” Noah repeated absent-mindedly. “Um… Harry, can I help you find what you’re looking for in there?” Noah panic-sat next to Harry on the wooden bench, pulling the bag over his lap, ostensibly to help the search.
“I know I left it in here,” Harry said into the bag.
“Are you dry yet, Pierre?” Noah said, also staring into Harry’s bag. “If so, please put clothes on. Please.”
Pierre dropped his towel on the floor, stretched, and walked over to where his clothes were hanging. “I am sorry,” he said. “My parents are naturists. They brought me up to have no shame about my body. No embarrassment.”
“Well,” Noah said, “that’s all very hip, I’m sure. And certainly there’s no shame in a little flash of ankle, or a saucy bit of wrist, but here in the United Kingdom, we are taught that being naked is sinful and wrong. Or hilarious. So we never, ever do it. This is an important cultural difference to learn.”
“Hahahaha!” Pierre laughed, grabbing his T-shirt and pulling it on.
Noah turned to Harry. “He’s putting his T-shirt on before his boxers!” he whispered.
“Oh? Weird…” Harry said, distractedly
“It’s like he’s keeping it out for the maximum amount of time possible!” Noah hissed.
“Found it!” Harry said, pulling out his phone with a grin of triumph and quickly scrolling through his notifications. “I knew I didn’t leave it in the box – I threw it in here!”
Noah glanced at Pierre again, who appeared to be preoccupied pulling his socks the right way out, before producing a pair of AussieBum boxers with a flourish.
“Finally!” Noah breathed.
Noah shifted uncomfortably on the bench and considered the situation. Just because handsome, toned, moist Pierre was staying with Harry, and just because he was comfortable with being totally naked all the time and had above-averagely-sized boy parts, didn’t mean that anything would happen between Pierre and Harry, because Harry was loyal and reliable and a good boy.
There was nothing to worry about.
And yet, somehow, there was everything to worry about.
What if Harry, sick of waiting for Noah to finally have the sort of body where some form of bow chicka wah wah was acceptable, simply lowered his defences against the impossibly French and aggressively naked Pierre?
There was a risk.
And risk had to be managed.
“So, I’ve had an idea,” Noah began. “And the idea is that my parents will be going on a date –” bile rose in his throat “– tonight, so you and Pierre must come round to mine for dinner!”
“Oh, right,” Harry said, finishing off a message and sending it.
“So, yes, I’m doing something special. Very special. It’s a tasting menu, exploring everything the UK has to offer in terms of culinary excellence. Very exciting!” Noah said, immediately starting to regret the ambition of the proposed event. A tasting menu?! How the merry hell was he going to put that together?
“Sounds fantastic,” Pierre said. “I hear your food has improved a lot over here in recent years?”
Noah arched an eyebrow, sensing an insult hidden in Pierre’s words. “Even the Guide Michelin considers us world leaders in cui
sine, and tonight, I shall demonstrate to you the full spectrum of our accomplishments.” Shut up, shut up, why are you building this up like this?!
Pierre pulled his boxers up, snapping the waistband against his abdomen. “I am gagging for it,” Pierre said, with a wink.
“Sounds delicious,” Harry chimed in.
“So, that’s fine. In a minute or two I will put my own clothes on and then I shall see you both later. Seven o’clock for an amuse-bouche.” Noah smiled, even though he had no idea what that was; he’d heard the term on MasterChef once.
Pierre pulled his jeans on. “See! I am dressed!”
“Congratulations,” Noah said.
“OK, let’s go. See you later, Noah,” Harry said, standing up, slipping his phone in his pocket and plucking his bag off Noah’s lap.
“Love you,” Noah said, deftly sweeping a nearby soggy towel that someone had abandoned on to his lap instead.
“Love you too,” Harry replied, bending down and giving Noah a peck on the cheek. “Aww!” He smiled, seeing what was in Noah’s open bag on the floor. “You brought the hoodie to school!”
“I told you,” Noah said. “It’ll be with me always.”
“Awww!” said Pierre. “Watching you two makes me wish I also had a boyfriend!”
Noah rolled his eyes as Pierre and Harry walked out. Great, Pierre was single too. Single and “ready to mingle”, no doubt!
The changing room now deserted, Noah flung the towel aside and picked up his phone out of the “valuables box” (that had just been left on one of the benches for anyone to steal, so good on Harry for avoiding it), and texted his mother:
MOTHER, I KNOW MONEY IS TIGHT RIGHT
NOW, BUT I REQUIRE THESE URGENT
INGREDIENTS FOR A HOSTED DINNER
TONIGHT: SCALLOPS, PANCETTA,
CAULIFLOWER, LAMB, MINT, PEAS,
POTATOES, TRUFFLE, BERGAMOT, STUFF TO
MAKE MERINGUE, DELICIOUS PETIT FOURS,
AND SOME CHEESE.
Sincerely,
NOAH (YOUR SON)
OK, he knew it was a long shot his useless mother would get everything on the list, but even with most of these ingredients, he could whip up the dining event of the year … if not the decade!
He could do this. He could bloody do this!
CHAPTER
NINE
“So, this is my street,” Noah explained to a morose Eva as he led the way back to his house. “It’s part of a council redevelopment project from the early 1980s, encouraging young families to move into affordable homes in the area in an attempt to rejuvenate it. Sadly it all backfired in the early nineties when it was discovered the water company had illegally pumped thousands of litres of raw sewage into the River Fobb, and the town became synonymous with corruption and environmental catastrophe, but we are a proud people, us Fobbers, and we got through it … well, I didn’t, I wasn’t born then, this was all in the olden days.” Noah gestured at the houses. “I suppose I would say it’s designed in a modernist architectural style, not ornate, but certainly practical. The white PVC double-glazing is a more recent addition.”
Eva’s eyes swept over the identikit homes on his street. “It is not nice, is it? It is like Le Corbusier took a shit here.”
Noah gritted his teeth. Normally he would have agreed, but this was his street she was talking about. But he couldn’t allow this German imposteur to ruin his dinner tonight, so he had to keep things light and happy.
Light … and … happy…
“Fuck!” Noah suddenly said. Outside his house, the lurid pink van was still there. Would Mick be around during the dinner tonight?
Noah took a deep breath. Light! Happy! He extended his arm towards the house and beamed. “Ta-da!”
Eva glanced at him. “Great,” she said, frowning.
“So, come inside!” Noah chirped, opening the front door and leading Eva through the hall, into the lounge. “This man –” Noah waved at his dad, who was sitting in his joggers and a ketchup-stained T-shirt watching television, having failed to shave “– is my father. Dad, this is Eva.”
“Eva!” His dad grinned, suddenly coming to life and bouncing over to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, darlin’!”
Noah flinched at the “darlin’”.
“Hallo.” Eva shrugged.
“Good trip over, I hope? I’m sure Noah’s got lots of –” he made quote marks with his fingers “– ‘fun’ planned!”
Noah resented the fun in quote marks. The Great British Quiz Off was certainly going to be fun – not that his philistine father would appreciate any of it.
Eva was looking at his dad. “Have we met? You look familiar.”
“Never tried to buy timeshare in Spain, have you?” His dad laughed, hollowly, suddenly on edge.
“HA HA HA HA!” Noah screeched. “Moving on, on, on!” He whisked Eva around, away from his father. “This person,” Noah said, turning to Mick, who was stretched elegantly out on the sofa, painting his nails, “is a man who likes to dress up as a woman for entertainment purposes. When he doesn’t have two kilos of polyester hair on his head, his name is Mick.”
Mick extended his hand. “Enchanté. And don’t listen to him, it’s always natural.”
“I have a friend who does drag in Berlin,” Eva said. “Actually, it’s genderfuck performance art, but I’m sure they are similar.”
“Sounds kinky,” Noah’s dad smirked.
Eva looked at him with unimpressed eyes. “Actually, it’s my view that genderfuck empowers artists to explore and comment on binaried gender through performance. Yes, it can be playful, but it is always political.”
Mick gave her look that was either admiration or contempt – Noah couldn’t quite place it. His dad, meanwhile, whose face had been totally blank, finally muttered, “Politics, huh? I don’t bother voting myself. Crooks, every one of’em!”
“Aaaaanyway,” Noah said, “I’m sure you can discuss all this with Mick some other time.” He looked at Mick and chewed his lip. “Do you have plans for this evening?”
Mick swiped his phone, smiled and looked up at Noah. “Actually, I think I have. Meeting a new friend – ScallyLad35.”
“Odd name,” Noah said.
“Yeah, it’s not his name I’m bothered about,” Mick said, giving Noah a wink and flashing his phone screen at him.
“Gah! Onwards!” Noah said, pulling Eva over to where his mother had emerged, in the doorway that led through to the kitchen-diner. Inexplicably wearing an apron, and with a cigarette hanging from her mouth, she looked like a character who might run a café in a soap opera – the sort with Formica tables, and ketchup in plastic bottles made to look like giant tomatoes. “My mother,” he said. “Mother – this is Eva. She’s German and a girl.”
“Nice to—”
“So!” Noah interrupted, before his mother could say anything embarrassing, “that’s everyone for now, please proceed to your bedroom, which is up the stairs and first on the left. Sorry about the box of Kleenex Mansize, but I thought you were going to be a boy.”
“Cool,” Eva said.
“Also, please note,” he said, putting on his most apologetic face, “smoking is not permitted,” he winced as his mother took a drag of her cigarette, “and you can only play your guitar between the hours of eight a.m. and eight p.m.”
Eva stared at Noah.
“OK?” Noah said.
“Cool,” Eva said, hauling her bag and guitar back through the door and up the stairs.
“She seems nice,” his mother said.
Noah shook his head. “I’m pretty sure some of those symbols on her guitar case are satanic,” he whispered. “Anyway, you received my message?” Noah asked, turning towards the kitchen.
His mum sighed. “Yes, Noah, I did.”
“Good, where is everything?” He walked through into the kitchen-diner. “I hope you’ve refrigerated the scallops because—” He looked at the empty space in front of him, turned on his heel and came back
through to the lounge. “Where’s the table?”
“Sold it,” muttered his dad from the armchair.
“You sold it?” Noah repeated. “Sold it? You’ve sold the dining table?!”
“We never use it,” his dad said. “It’s about decluttering!”
“Decluttering!” Noah shouted. “Have you gone entirely mad? Where are we supposed to eat?”
His dad looked at him like Noah was the mad one. “Trays on our laps, like normal?”
“I am having a dinner party this evening,” Noah hissed. “What am I supposed to tell the guests?”
“Well, how were we meant to know? Go out and grab some kebabs. Now shush,” his dad said. “I’m tryin’ to watch the end of this Antiques Roadshow I recorded. The last thing they show is always worth a lot.”
“We need the money, Noah,” his mum said. “We’ve all got to tighten our belts a bit. Money doesn’t grow on trees.”
No, no, no, no! Not this, not now! Well, of course they didn’t have any money: however much they wanted to play this “happy perfect family” charade, his father was a layabout thief who nobody in their right mind would employ, and his mother, his bloody useless mother, did a Beyoncé tribute act that had attracted not a single, solitary booking in the last three months. Mainly because, all things considered, it was SHITE. No money? How about taking some responsibility? How about, just once, his parents tried acting like adults and getting real jobs?
He pointed at his mum. “You do realize, don’t you, that this country is in the midst of historic lows of unemployment, right? There is a shortage of labour in the market. You could literally walk into any shop – anywhere! – and—”
“Noah? I’m going for some air,” Eva said, suddenly appearing in almost the entire length of the doorway.
“Mais oui!” Noah replied, suddenly sweetness and light, doing a small curtsy. “Please enjoy the surrounding English countryside and all that Little Fobbing has to offer. Sometimes I like to visit the park and look at the ducks. Oh, the one off Gordon Road is probably best; they found high levels of mercury in the soil of the one by the primary school.”
“Cool,” said Eva.
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