Even our little dinner routine was wrecked. Shanks could cook, man. He’d make stuff with coriander and cooz cooz – shite I’d never even heard of, all brought up from London. Can’t get it in the outposts, he’d say, waggling a fucking plantain at me. As I choked it down, he’d be all like, Oh, the spices are Moroccan, or, Just a little Persian dish I threw together. I remember him and JJ were in the kitchen once, and he was teaching her how to do something with a mango or something, and when he moved past her he slid his hand across the small of her back, like this, and kept it there a second longer than he needed to. I had to stop myself from taking a bite out of his fucking neck.
Even once he’d gone back to London, all Adam and JJ wanted to talk about was the rave, and, by association, Shanks. They were mesmerised by his – what? – his aura, or whatever. What in their minds he represented. How he could waltz into our world and do the things we ourselves couldn’t.
Nights, I’d lie awake on my mattress with my door open, but neither of them came. Then I woke up in the night once, needing a slash, and when I passed JJ’s room I heard low voices. My stomach sank. They were in there together, Adam and JJ. Just the two of them. I went back to my mattress and lay there until morning.
I started being a proper dick. Stomping about and boozing and that. Like, we’d be going over some ideas for visuals, you know, like what if we hung sheets on the walls and looped NASA footage? Stuff like that. And they’d ask me what I thought and I’d just pout.
Cor got Adam’s number off Alive and rang the house. Mam was upset, she said, and wanted to see me. I said I was busy and Cor was like, Shut your fucking hole, she’s your mam. Told me to meet them both at Yvette’s – this café on the precinct – but I was like, I’m going to London tomorrow. Cor was like, Be there, dickhead, and hung up. I said to Adam, Can you believe her? But he said I should go because they were my family and not everyone had that. See, Adam had been taken into care when he was just a bairn, and JJ’d been living on her own in council flats since she was like fifteen. Dark stuff in her family, you know. Her stepdad, she told me once, was going to be flayed in Hell.
So the next morning I got up and threw a few things in my bag for the London trip, but as soon as I got downstairs I knew the house was empty. And sure enough, there on the kitchen counter, a note: Decided to head down early. Me and JJ can handle everything. We’ll say hi to A.S. for you. Don’t get the hump but you need to talk to your mam. See you when we get back, kiss kiss.
I thought, Fuckers! They wanted to go without me! Wanted time alone with Shanks. Cuddling up to that posh bastard in his king size bed and stocked bar and piles of coke they never paid for. They’d been looking for an excuse to ditch me. I stomped upstairs and started packing the rest of my glittery possessions. I’d be gone when they got back! Aye, that’d teach them! But after a minute, I stopped. I was putting on a show for no one. There was nowhere else for me to go.
So I went to meet Mam.
Yvette’s café has been there as long as the estate, and it’s where all the biddies go for a fried slice. Mam used to take us on Saturday mornings for a quote-unquote treat, before we went food shopping in town. I hated the place. It was always full of crones puffing on Superkings and Berkley Reds – them really long ones only old women buy – and you couldn’t see for the smoke. Mam and Cor were at the back table as per, and Mam gave me a hug that was almost a choke, launching into the standard Mam questions: Are you eating properly? Why are you so thin?
Cor didn’t get up. She was like, So, Jim, what’s the craic?
Ask him, I said.
Your dad didn’t mean it, Mam said.
He chucked suitcases at me and told me to get out.
You know what he’s like. He’s under a lot of stress.
What does that even mean? You’re telling me you’re not under stress?
He’s a worker, that’s his life.
Not anymore it’s not. And you’re married to that miserable twat for the rest of yours.
Cor was like, Jim, what the fuck?
And Mam was like, Corina! Language!
Under different circumstances, Cor’s outraged face then would’ve cracked me up.
Mam said to me, He loves you.
He threw me out.
Pet, he was drunk.
He still meant it. Everybody rejects you in time.
Oh, son, that’s not true.
Cor kicked my shin under the table.
Mam started to cry. It was the first time ever I’d seen her cry, and it twisted me up inside, but in the end my anger outweighed my guilt. Cor put her arms around her, glaring at me. She mouthed the words You dick.
Mam was like, I don’t care if you’re gay.
Jesus, Mam.
Then she said, are you…addicted?
Aye that’s it, Mam, I said, I’m addicted. Can’t get enough of them ecstasy tablets. I’m howling at the moon most nights. See, that’s him, that’s Dad talking.
But we’re a family, she said.
There is no such thing as family, I said. It’s everybody for themselves. You think someone loves you, but they’ll chuck you like that. At least Dad’s honest about it.
When I got up Mam grabbed me, but I shrugged her off. I left with tears in my eyes for the second time that day…
Cor was right, though. I was a dick. Maybe everyone is at eighteen, but if that’s true, what’s my excuse now? I live fifteen minutes’ walk away and I haven’t seen them in more than twenty year. After I moved out of Cor’s place, Mam used to knock on my flat all the time. She’d talk through the letter box – Son, if you’re in there, please just open the door – and I’d be in the living room with the curtains drawn. Thing is, I wanted to let her in, but I never did…and I don’t know why I didn’t. She’s ill now, Cor says. She might have even forgotten who I am and, well, that’s the least of what I deserve, but what haunts me is what if she hasn’t forgotten all the pain I’ve caused her? What if it’s still there, unattached and swirling around inside her, only now she doesn’t know why?
And while we’re on the subject, were you ever anybody’s daughter? Who are you? You know, when me and Cor were bairns, Mam used to tell us stories about you. Peg Powler’s in the pipes, she’d say. You’d come up through the toilet to snatch us. Back then, because we didn’t really believe you were real, it was alright to make you a monster, but now I know different. Now I’ve got to believe you’re not. I’ve got to believe you didn’t take that girl, Lily. I need to believe. People have seen me as a monster for so long I’m starting to believe it myself…
So, anyway, after a few more weeks, we were set for the rave. And I’ve got to hand it to him, Shanks was good. He’d thought of everything – he’d even forged some documents to flash under the noses of any authority figures who came sniffing, saying the rave had been signed off by the council and corresponded to all fire and safety codes. Adam and JJ had been doing the rounds in Peel House and the local club nights, building a buzz. Tickets flew. We were charging fifteen quid each – steep for some people we knew – but it was Shank’s money and he was adamant it was a steal for what would be the best night of their lives.
Nowt else mattered for Adam and JJ, and they started getting ideas. If the rave went well, they said, they’d put on another, bigger one. They’d bring London to the North and be big time promoters like Shanks! Go into business together, even! Get out of the estate and never come back!
The night before the rave, Shanks’ mates came up – half a dozen fuckers who looked like they’d slid out of a Dolce and Gabanna advert. They towered over us, too stunning to be real, picking at the wallpaper in the hall where it was coming away. They were staying at ours, and the house was bursting. Adam and JJ were the centre of attention and though they pretended otherwise, they lapped it up. These angels! Shanks’d say, These angels that dropped into my life! Me, I skulked in the kitchen, ne
cking drinks. I just wanted it all to be over. I was so sick of everything, and I swear the next bit happened exactly like this: Shanks had just cracked some joke in the living room and everyone was laughing, and I thought, I hope it’s a fucking disaster – them exact words – and at that very second someone banged on the door.
Silence. That kind of knock was never good. Adam stuck his head into the hall and whispered, Who’s that?
I was like, How should I know?
Answer it, he said. Chicken.
So I did.
There was this massive bloke on the doorstep, hands tucked into his waistcoat.
He said, And you are?
I’m Jim, I said. Who are you?
Vincent, he said. Where’s your Mammy and Daddy? He saw Adam over my shoulder.
You, Vincent said.
Adam shit a brick. Me?
Vincent walked through me; I bounced off his hip like I didn’t exist. He herded Adam into the living room. I peeped round the door from the hall.
By the way, in case you don’t know, Vincent Barr was – is – Scunner-in-Chief round the estate. The one bloke you hope doesn’t know your name. You heard crazy as stories about him, like he’d once got banged up for rolling an armoured truck in Manchester, or how his dog ripped off some poor fucker’s ballsack. Crazy shite. And now he was in our house.
Everyone went mute. Shanks was sat on the floor like one of them Tibetan monks, flummoxed.
Vincent said to Adam, A little birdy tells me something’s going off at the waterworks tomorrow night.
No, Adam said.
Think carefully before you tell me any porkies, Vincent said.
Shanks spoke. And just who the perfect fuck might you be?
Vincent ignored him, kept his creepy blue eyes on Adam.
Adam looked at JJ, who was rocking back and forth on the floor.
Don’t look at her, Vincent said. Look at me. So, my little birdy is right?
Adam nodded.
Vincent wanted to know how many people. When Adam said about six thousand, Vincent whistled. And these people are…?
Just local people, Adam said. From around.
Just local people, Vincent said. From around. You know, my wife is very ill at the minute and needs her rest. I’m not having six thousand scunners tearing up the place.
It’s not like that, Adam said. We don’t want any trouble.
I’ve read the papers, Vincent said. Acid Nutters Gang Rape Old Dear and whatnot.
That’s all bollocks, JJ said.
Vincent chuckled. You’re telling me people who go round wearing gear a fucking Downs kid wouldn’t be caught dead in don’t have a few screws loose?
Shanks stood up. He was almost as tall as Vincent, almost. He was like, Listen here! I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I’m running the show and this is happening!
What’s your name? Vincent said, taking a step into Shanks. Shanks lost his bottle.
Aiden, he said. Aiden Santerre. Can you believe that? What a name! Aiden Santerre!
And where do you hail from, Aiden Santerre?
London.
Long way from home, aren’t you?
Shanks said nowt.
Vincent looked around the room. Nowt happens on this estate without my say so, right? So this rave, it’s off.
You can’t do that, Shanks said.
Vincent drilled holes through him. I can do whatever I want, sunshine. I catch any of you cunts up here again, they’ll never find the bodies, right?
No one spoke.
RIGHT!?
Mumble mumble went the room.
Then Vincent cocked his head, like a dog watching telly. He said, But six thousand druggy little fucks at fifteen quid a pop? That’s not to be sniffed at, is it?
This is mine, Shanks said. You should have seen the look on his face. At that moment, I could totally see him as some snotty brat, his nanny taking his toys off him because he hadn’t done his Latin verbs or something.
Thirty percent, Vincent said. Now that’s fair.
No, Shanks snarled.
I could take it all if I wanted. Not like you can ring the pigs. These things are illegal, aren’t they?
Shanks’ gob was a white slit in his tanned face.
It’s either that, Vincent said, or me and the boys go in tomorrow night and fuck the place right up. How’s that sound?
Fine, thirty percent, Adam said, but Shanks was like, No! I’m sick of you haggard bastards thinking you can just sweep in and take what you want! Your time is done, old man! Finito! You’re not getting a penny, you hear! Not a penny! There, what do you say to that?
His face inches from Vincent’s. Shanks’ friends clung to each other. Adam and JJ tried to melt into the corner, while I ran into the kitchen and hid round the side of the fridge, ready to bolt out the back door. I’m telling you, I thought Shanks was literally dead.
But I heard Vincent say calmly, Well, enjoy your party. Then he left.
In the living room, nobody spoke. Shanks’ mates looked green-as. JJ had her head on Adam’s shoulder, Adam had his head in his hands. Only Shanks was on his feet, staring into space, lips moving. Fuck him, he said.
You don’t understand who that was, Adam said.
I don’t care. We’ve got security. They can handle it.
We should’ve given him the money.
Shanks pointed at him, livid. That was my money you wanted to give away! Remember that!
And Adam actually apologised!
Needless to say, Shanks got his way and, despite everything – ahh, I’m really feeling it now – despite everything, the waterworks looked class. Ever since I was a kid, it’d been a wreck – graffiti as high as the spray cans could go, reeking of piss, but that night it was transformed. Everyone was drilled and knew their jobs, and within a few hours we had sound, power, toilets. A security team from Middlesbrough came in on a coach and Shanks put a guy every hundred yards around the perimeter of knotweed surrounding the place, telling them a local wannabe tough-guy had made threats. Inside, everything was decked out to Adam and JJ’s designs – mirror balls and projectors with NASA-launch loops of rocket boosters flaming in the stratosphere. We even scored a crate of glow sticks from someone Shanks knew in the army and, aye, I know, glow sticks are proper clichéd nowadays, but back then they were pure sci-fi. Shanks showed me how to do it – crack the middle, shake – and slipped a couple in my pocket.
Everything was ready. All we had to do was wait and I’ll admit, little bitch that I was, I was excited.
The first people started showing up. Ravers – Acid Teds and proud. Shanks was dressed like a yacht captain – his normal getup – and had a walkie talkie on his belt. He said a few words into it and over on the platform, the DJ dropped a million decibels of Phuture’s Acid Trax across the wasteland.
I felt in my pocket for my bag of pills. I’d done extra shifts at the glass factory to afford them and I felt like getting purely battered. Like burying my jealousy and sadness under an avalanche of love. I necked one, so did Adam and JJ. Shanks, too, who usually abstained, but since it was a special occasion and all that. Then we went inside.
The place was filling up. On the ticket, we’d put no cars because there was nowhere to park except on the estate, and that would’ve riled people. So they came pouring through the streets and I hoped whoever saw them – like Macca, Trace, Dad – I hoped the sight would jolt them out of their pinhole worlds.
The E got to work, and I started to lose myself in the music. Started thinking, haway, life’s not so bad. Expecting everything to stay the same forever is childish, isn’t it? The trick is to change with change, embrace it. That was how love grew – over time, through experience and adversity. Love locked up dies. I wanted to find Adam and JJ, say sorry for how I’d been acting, but first I’d do
another pill. You do that for some reason – do another pill – right when you’re coming up on the first and need it the least. So in the middle of the dancing crowd, I went to fiddle one out of my bag, but I got knocked and they flew out my hand. I dropped to my knees but it was no good, they were gone. My goodwill, though, was solid. I was like, Fuck it – easy come, easy go. I could always get more. Everybody in there was battered. I went looking for Adam and JJ.
And before everything went to shite that night, it was beautiful. So many people all having a good time, all these walks of life, from acid kids to scunners and everyone in between. I thought we’d finally cracked it, you know? Here we were – we’d finally sank down to the secret where all our individual selves had become one. I bumped into Alive and his mate Mickey. Alive had his shirt off, proper gurning. He stuck a fat wet kiss on me. They hadn’t seen Adam or JJ, so I wandered around for a bit and started thinking about pills again. I should’ve asked Alive while I’d had the chance, but when I got back to where I thought they were, I couldn’t see them. I started asking randoms, and after a couple of tries this guy said he’d do me two for a tenner, which was a proper bargain. They looked weird, though. They were bigger than normal and had gnarly flecks in them that glowed under the lights. Still, I paid him and necked one.
Now, anyone who’s done pills’ll tell you one of the first things to go is time. Like, you can light a cigarette and somehow you’re still smoking it an hour later. Or you reckon it’s got to be five or six in the morning, but your watch says not even midnight. Shite like that. What I’m trying to say is the next part is hard to sequence.
At some point, I found Adam, JJ, and Shanks. They were all proper loved up and I hugged everyone, including Shanks, and for a bit all the grooves of the universe dovetailed. But then Shanks looked over the top of the crowd at something we weren’t tall enough to see, and all of a sudden he was gone. We followed him outside and found Vincent leaning against a segment of old concrete pipe.
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