Before she left she wrote a note for Nick, telling him to help himself to whatever for breakfast, and that she’d be back at twelve, in plenty of time for the meeting with Mrs Batts. Her plan was to let him know how his mum died then, before the meeting.
She chucked the dishes in the sink and ran upstairs to do her make-up in the bathroom mirror. Her own face looking back at her made her pause for thought. What a mess! Gear, she thought - it made you feel so good. You lay there feeling wonderful even while death himself was creeping in through the windows. Now look. Her beloved Muriel. They used to say how they’d live together when they were old ladies and keep one another company. Now, Muriel would never be old.
‘You bitch, you left me,’ she thought. She was suddenly furious. Funny how you could have feelings and you didn’t always know where they came from. And another thing - she was scared. Now, what on earth was there to be scared of?
Scared of Nick, came the answer.
‘Don’t be stupid, he’s just a kid,’ she told herself.
‘What are you looking at?’ She turned round to see her daughter scowling at her watching herself in the mirror.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ she called, and got the day into motion.
When she got back at twelve-thirty, the house was empty. There was a clutter of cereal, spilt milk and cornflakes on the work surface. The cornflake packet, which had been half full, was empty. The milk was all gone. She found the bowl itself on the settee. Of Nick himself, no trace remained.
Jenny tidied up with a sinking heart, crunching cornflakes underfoot. Please God he hadn’t gone back to Ancoats. If he had, please God he didn’t meet anyone who knew what had happened to Muriel, which would be anyone within about five miles by now.
But he didn’t have any money. He was scarcely going to walk that far, was he? Unless... Jenny picked up the change mug she kept on the kitchen windowsill, out of reach of little hands.
Empty! There’d been over a fiver in there. The greedy little bastard had taken the lot.
‘He’s stolen my money,’ she thought. ‘He’s only been in my house for less than a day and he’s eaten all the cereal, drunk all the milk so I can’t even have a cup of tea, covered the floor in cornflakes and pinched a fiver off me.’ And now there he was, back in Ancoats, finding out what a shit she was for not telling him at once how his mum had died - and doing it on her money!
‘Wait till I get my hands on him,’ she thought to herself. But at the back of her mind was the thought that maybe, by now, he’d be thinking the same thing about her.
Nick had woken up suddenly when Grace banged the downstairs front door behind her. His eyes sprang open as the door thumped and he lay there for a moment wondering where he was and why he had such an odd pit of anxiety in his stomach. Then it all came back in one sudden rush, and he was bereft.
He went downstairs and got some cereal, which he ate in front of the TV. After he’d finished it he sat and watched for a while, but then he began to go mad. There was nothing of his in this house - his books, clothes, tapes, everything, was still at home. He was confronted with a day of emptiness, a stranger in a strange house. He wandered into the kitchen to find some money. He had some of his own at home, he was sure of it. Or there’d be his mum’s purse and stuff. Whose was it now, if not his?
He went straight to the mug on the windowsill because Muriel used to do exactly the same thing right up until he got big enough to reach it and spend it. He knew as soon as he lifted it up, it was more than half full! Gold!
He rifled through it. A bit under three quid. Enough to get him to Ancoats on the bus, buy some snacks or sweets, some chips for lunch perhaps. He ran upstairs for his jacket with his front door key in it, and then straight out the door, without even noticing Muriel’s note on the kitchen table asking him to be there for when Mrs Batts came round at two.
It was about half nine by the time he got off the bus in Ancoats, but with his feet back on his own patch, he wasn’t so sure what to do. He didn’t want to go home -he didn’t want to think about that. So he went round to Jeremy’s house to see if he and Simon had taken another day off. The house looked empty, but it always did -skiving off wasn’t something you advertised. He spent quite a bit of time peering round the corner and trying to look in the windows, before someone came out of a house down the street to watch him and he walked off.
He wandered around a bit, bought a Mars, got fed up, walked back to Jeremy’s house and boldly knocked on the door. It was answered by Jeremy’s sister, Amanda. He saw her peer through the curtains from the side of the bay window at him before she went to the door. She stood there, her big eyes sparkling at him.
‘Nick, I’m so sorry,’ she said, and without warning flung herself at him and gave him a hug so big, it startled him.
Of course, the news about his mum would be all round everywhere by now.
Amanda was a year younger than Nick, and for years she and her friends and Nick and his friends had been playing together, hanging out together and more and more these days, going out together. In a few years, they’d start sleeping together as well. Some of them already were, although neither Nick nor Amanda were among the precocious few.
Amanda was off school for the morning to go to the dentist.
‘Two fillings,’ she groaned. She ran around making coffee nervously. She’d never met anyone in Nick’s position before and didn’t know how to deal with it.
‘At least I get the morning off,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ said Nick.
She looked at him and laughed nervously. ‘Yeah. You could have the week off, I reckon.’
‘The year,’ said Nick.
‘It’s awful. No one had any idea.’ Amanda’s eyes twisted up to his. Nick was pretty much the last person at the school not to know that his mother had died with a needle in her arm - but she was scared to ask him directly. What if the rumours were wrong? She didn’t want to be the one to tell him tales like that were being spread about when he’d just lost his mum.
And Nick didn’t ask. The looks he’d had off Jenny and Mrs Batts and now from Amanda could all have been put down just to the death on its own, but in his heart he knew there was more to come, and he didn’t want it. So nothing was said. Amanda handed him his coffee.
‘Let’s drink it in the front room,’ he suggested.
‘All right then.’ But she felt unsure as she led the way. The sofa was snogging territory. Was it all right to cop a snog when his mum had just died? And was it all right for her to let him?
Sure enough, they sat down and after a little chat, Nick’s hand crept out and touched her leg. ‘I could do with another hug,’ he suggested slyly.
How could she say no? She reached out for him. ‘Just a hug then.’
They put their arms around each other, and kissed. She leaned her head on the back of the sofa while his hand pushed the bottom of her blouse to one side to touch the skin on her waist. She was expecting him to go further, but he just put his arms tightly around her, buried his nose in her neck and sniffed wetly.
Oh, my God, she thought, he’s crying. It was just the hug he wanted after all. She put her arms right round him and gave him the biggest love she had in her.
After a long moment, Nick pulled back and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.
‘I don’t know what’s going to happen now,’ he said in a strained voice.
‘Where are you staying?’ she asked.
‘Jenny. Friend of Mum’s.’
‘What about your family?’
Nick dashed his hand angrily to one side. ‘I don’t have any.’
‘What, none?’
‘None.’
Amanda had four aunts, six uncles, two granddads, three grandmas, one great-grandmother and more cousins than she knew about. She couldn’t imagine how you could end up with no one.
‘You’ve heard of the seventh son of the seventh son?’ said Nick bitterly. ‘Well, I’m the only child of an only child.’
‘Jenny’s putting me up.’
‘What’s it like?’
Nick shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what it was like at Jenny’s, he hadn’t had time to notice.
He slid his hand behind her back. ‘Another hug,’ he begged.
Willingly, Amanda took him in her arms, but this time his hand crept up to her breast. Nick had been thinking - alone, in an empty house with Amanda? It was a pity to miss a chance. Amanda was a bit disappointed that he wanted that after all, but she was ready to offer him whatever kind of comfort he needed - within reason, of course.
It was universally acknowledged that Nick Dane was a bit delicious.
Somehow he swished her down so that her head was resting on the arm of the sofa and she was flat on her back with him half on top of her.
‘That was quick,’ she said.
Nick smiled and kissed her. For another moment she just lay there, letting it happen, enjoying the long kisses and his hands on her skin. Then she suddenly sat up and pushed him off.
‘Oh, is that the time, I have to go,’ she said, although she’d lost all track of time. Nick sat up looking dazedly around for the clock. She went into the kitchen and found that she really was late, and started rushing about collecting her bags and books - she was going straight on to school afterwards. Nick followed her about the house woefully.
‘Can’t I stay here for a bit?’ he asked.
She stared at him. Didn’t he have a home to go to? But she wasn’t sure if he did anymore.
‘Not too long,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Just a bit.’
Amanda hurried out of the door. Before she went, she kissed and hugged him. ‘You’re still gorgeous,’ she whispered to him.
‘I still have me,’ he said, nodding. It was what his mum used to say...‘Whatever happens, Nick, you always have yourself.’
‘You’ll be all right, then,’ she told him. She kissed him again and left. As she walked down the road, she shook her head. Amazing. Just a couple of days ago, Nick Dane seemed to have it all; now he had nothing. It just went to show. Some things were so much a part of you, you just took them for granted. Perhaps she’d give her mum a hand around the house tonight, just to show her that she appreciated her for being there. She shook her head again, and ran down the road to catch the bus.
Another door banging, thought Nick, as she left the house. He went to lie on the sofa a while, for the want of anything else to do, and stared at the ceiling. He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t settle. Jeremy was at school, Amanda had said, and if Jeremy was, so was Simon. There was nothing to do here. So he did what he’d come for. He went home.
The house would be no different, he told himself, but in his mind it had already died, just like his mother. He walked along the road self-consciously, hoping that no one would spot him, and he almost made it too - he actually had his key in the door when old Mrs Ash from next door jumped out on the pavement, dressed in her pink apron and fluffy slippers, as always. Her youngest grandson gave her a new pair every birthday. Her hair was always in a pink-rinsed perm, which he always thought made her look a bit like a poodle. The pinky-grey curls were too thin these days to really hide her ears, which stuck out and drooped slightly with age. She was as kind as anyone they knew, but that didn’t stop her from being a nuisance. She was at home all day on her own with nothing to do and she was as nosy as a puppy.
It was an old-fashioned thing from the days when half the street belonged to the same family. Thirty years ago there were dozens of Ashes within a stone’s throw of her house, but they’d all flown off one after the other. Only Evelyn was left, but she still liked to know who was who and what was what. She’d have done almost anything to find out your business, or to help you, for the simple reason that you lived nearby.
Before he knew what was going on, she had him sitting down in her kitchen eating double egg on toast and drinking strawberry Nesquik, which had counted as a treat for him in her eyes since he was three or four.
‘Your poor mum,’ she said, sitting opposite him with a cup of tea. ‘I were shocked. I don’t know how she kept it all together. Who’d have guessed?’ She shook her head and looked at him with big, blue, pitying eyes. ‘And no relatives!’ It was something she could hardly comprehend, having so many herself. ‘Well, Nick, there’ll always be place here at my table for you, you know that.’
Nick forked up his eggs. Who’d have guessed, Evelyn had said. No one had any idea, Amanda said. Who’d have guessed what? No one had any idea of what? Not him, that was for sure.
He was getting fed up with not knowing.
He took a swig of his milkshake and waited.
‘You know I let Jenny in?’ asked Evelyn. Nick nodded. ‘Awful!’ she went on. ‘Just kneeling there in front of the fire. She looked like she was praying, except for that arm stretched out.’ She shook her head and her eyes filled up at the memory of it. ‘I’ll never forget it,’ she exclaimed, fidgeting in her sleeve for some damp tissues. She blew her nose and peered over the top of it at him.
‘ We tried the school, but of course you weren’t there, ’ she scolded, and smiled wanly. ‘Your mum would have been furious.’
Tried the school? It was all news to Nick. The feeling that he knew far, far less than he should have was beginning to overwhelm him.
‘So what do you think she died of?’ he asked.
Evelyn froze mid-blow. ‘You don’t know,’ she stated. Then her mouth dropped slightly as she realised that she’d just more or less told him that she did.
‘What don’t I know?’ insisted Nick. He tensed himself up as if waiting for a blow.
Evelyn did her best to think quickly. ‘Was she... a diabetic, your mum?’ she asked desperately.
‘No.’
‘No.’ Evelyn bit her lip. ‘She stopped taking sugar in her tea a few years ago, that’s all,’ she pointed out.
Nick thought about that for a second, then looked at her expectantly.
‘... medication of any sort?’ quavered Evelyn.
‘Was she ill? She’d have told me if she was ill. Wouldn’t she?’
Evelyn sighed dramatically and looked from side to side as if some form of escape route would suddenly appear. She was in it up to her eyebrows.
‘Oh, lad, Nick, oh, Nick lad, you poor boy, oh dear, Nick!’ she said, and taking refuge in the only direction open to her, buried her face in her apron and started to sob.
Nick sat still and waited.
‘Oh, Nick, there were a needle in her arm, that’s what it is,’ she wailed suddenly. ‘She were lying there in front of the fire on her knees wi’ her arm stretched out and a needle sticking out of it. I don’t know what it was, Nick, I’ve got no idea.’ She peeped out at him over the top of the apron. ‘It were heroin!’ she exclaimed, and burst into tears again. ‘Oh, Nick! The police were searching your house yesterday from top to bottom, they pulled the whole place to pieces, it were awful. Oh dear, there, Nick, I’ve gone and blurted it out and it were never my place. How will you ever forgive me? Oh, Nick, I’m so, so sorry!’
Nick sat still, listening to the new information quietly. So that was it. His mother was a junkie. Jenny had known it. Mrs Batts had known it. Amanda had known it. Evelyn knew it. And if Evelyn knew it, so did everyone else.
The only one who hadn’t was yours truly.
Nick was furious. But he had this quality, which was to serve him well in the months to come - he always managed to think of something to do. Even when the world was falling to pieces around him, he could whip up a plan and act it out. Now, he reached across the table and touched Evelyn’s hand.
‘No, it’s all right, Evelyn. I knew all about that.’
Her old face, red and wet with tears, peered out of the pinny. ‘You knew? All the time?’
‘I thought she’d packed it in, though. You know Mum. She never tells me anyt
hing.’ Nick smiled. He made a good job of it, under the circumstances - good enough to fool Mrs Ash. The pinny came down.
‘It’s not the sort of thing you talk about,’ said Nick helpfully.
‘Addiction is a terrible thing, Nick. I’ve seen it all before. Alcohol mainly. A nephew. A niece - two nieces. At least one brother, perhaps two. Do you remember Frieda?’
But Nick was in no mood to share stories of family tragedy. He’d had enough information for now. He pushed back his chair and got up.
‘Thanks, Evelyn. I’ve got to go. I just called round to pick some stuff up.’
‘Oh, you’re staying with Jenny? She was a good friend to your mum. She was so shocked, poor dear, I thought she were going to collapse, she were that upset. I thought she might be coming round to have a share - you know, of that stuff. But she swore she never knew a thing about it. Oh, it’s a terrible thing, addiction. It turns people against their own family. It turns good folk into liars and thieves.’ She nodded and rubbed her face. ‘Jenny’ll look after you, dear. At least you have her.’
She saw him to the doorstep and watched as he went down her path and up his. He fitted the key in the door and stepped inside.
Nick’s first impression when he stepped inside his house was, it was too clean. The front room looked as if it had been freshly hoovered. Not only hoovered, there were no papers on the floor. The TV glinted, the coffee table had a shine on it. Even the windows were clean. The place had a funny smell.. .polish, wasn’t it?
Evelyn said the police had been round and searched the place. Nick had a sudden bizarre vision of a constable in his uniform and helmet running round with the vacuum and a can of Pledge. Did they do that after they'd searched a place? Really?
He went to the loo, which smelt of bleach. In the kitchen it was just as bad. Where was all the clutter gone? The surfaces were clear, the table wiped until it shone and the cooker looked as if it had never been used to cook so much as a boiled egg.
He opened a drawer and looked inside. But where had the hoover bags, dishcloths and tea towels gone? Eventually he found them under the sink. Gradually, he realised that everything was in a different place. The earthenware jar on the windowsill that used to hold the wooden spoons now held the newly rinsed dried flowers that used to be a dusty decoration in the green vase on a shelf, which itself now held a packet of half-used incense sticks.
Nicholas Dane Page 3