by Dave Cousins
She points to one of the names halfway down the list. ‘That’s me. Brass-O!’
‘You’re in a band?’ I’m surprised, she doesn’t look the type. ‘What do you play?’
‘Trumpet … it’s a brass band. Brass-O! D’you get it? Like Hawaii Five-O, but with brass—like the polish. We play that, Hawaii Five-O.’
‘Great.’
‘It’s lame!’ She shrugs. ‘But I don’t have much choice. My dad’s band leader. Been doing it since I was five.’
‘Yeah?’
She collects her posters together. ‘Right, better get these up before the bell goes. Thanks for your help—you’re my hero!’
‘No problem.’ I get the feeling she’s being sarcastic.
‘I’m Mina by the way,’ she says, picking up her bag. ‘What are they going to carve on your gravestone?’
‘What?’
‘Or did they only give you a number?’
‘Eh?’
‘What’s your name, Big Man?’ She sighs and shakes her head. ‘I sometimes think you lot speak a different language down here.’
‘Oh, right … Laurence. Laurence Roach.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Laurence Laurence Roach. See you on Sunday then.’
The way Mina talks, it’s more of a command than an invitation.
Nelly’s at her post when we get home.
‘Hello, boys!’
I grunt.
‘How’s your mother? Is she not well?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘Only I’ve not seen her today.’
I don’t look at her, afraid my face will give me away. I wonder if she knows Mum didn’t come home last night?
‘Had a bit of a fire this morning did we?’
‘What?’
‘I heard your smoke alarm go off!’
‘It wasn’t a fire, just the toast.’
‘That was fortunate.’ Nelly’s eyes lock on to mine like a homing missile.’ It would be a tragedy if anything happened while you were there all on your own.’
‘We’re not.’ I look back at her, straight down the barrel. ‘Come on, Jay, let’s go and see Mum.’
I can feel Nelly tracking us, all the way up the stairs.
‘Mum!’ calls Jay, running ahead. ‘Mum?’ He goes in and out of all the rooms, then turns on me. ‘You said Mum was here!’
I shrug and dump my bag in the hall. ‘I said that to shut Nosy Nelly up.’
Jay growls, then storms into the front room and slams the door.
I check the flat. Nothing has changed. Mum hasn’t been home.
She must have found somebody to get drunk with last night, and crashed out somewhere after the pub. She probably slept all day, then woke up just in time to do her shift at the chippy. There’s nothing to worry about. She’ll be home later, bad tempered and hung over, and everything will be back to normal.
I go into the kitchen to do my homework; I don’t want any more grief from school.
There’s a cockroach on the wall by the cooker. Sitting there with its antennae quivering. It’s giving me the creeps. I can feel goosebumps crawling across my skin just looking at it.
I stand quietly and pick up a frying pan from the sink.
The roach doesn’t move.
I take a step closer.
The weapon feels good and heavy in my hand.
I take aim … and let him have it—
The noise as the pan hits the wall is immense. My ears are still ringing as I check underneath for roach remains. But instead of guts all over the wall, there’s just a greasy smear and a dent in the plaster.
‘What are you doing?’
I turn round. Jay is watching me from the doorway.
‘Chasing roaches,’ I tell him.
‘Did you get it?’
‘No.’
He shakes his head. ‘You can’t kill them, you know.’
‘What?’
‘A cockroach doesn’t die even if you chop its head off.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish!’
Jay frowns. ‘It’s not rubbish! We did about it at school. Miss Shaw said a cockroach can live for days without its head!’
‘What about if you squash it with a frying pan?’
‘Dunno.’ He shrugs. ‘We didn’t do about that.’
I put the pan back in the sink.
‘I’m hungry,’ says Jay. ‘Where’s Mum?’
‘At work,’ I tell him, and drop the last crust of stale bread into the toaster.
‘I don’t want toast!’
‘It’s all we’ve got.’
His eyes darken. ‘I want Mum to come home. You’re rubbish.’
Jay stomps back into the other room and slams the door.
‘Fine, I’ll eat the toast then. Let him starve,’ I tell the roaches, while I look in the cupboard for some jam.
The smoke alarm makes me jump. I stand on a chair to pull the battery out, and imagine Nelly in the flat below, making a note in her surveillance log. Something else for her to complain about.
I tell Jay I’ll buy him a present if he’s quiet while I’m on the phone.
He doesn’t want to come into the kiosk with me though.
‘It smells of wee in there.’
‘OK, you can wait outside, but you have to stay there, next to the phone box. Don’t go running off!’
Jay looks at me. ‘It’s not up to you!’
‘If you don’t stay here and keep quiet, I’m not buying you anything.’
He scowls and leans back against the phone box, pulling his cap down over his eyes.
I’m nervous tonight. More nervous than before. I can’t stop thinking about all those sports questions, page after page rolling across the screen—so much I don’t know.
Baz will ask me a sport question tonight. I can feel it.
‘Two down, just ONE TO GO!’ says Baz, followed by a fanfare of trumpets.
There’s somebody outside waiting to use the telephone, and Jay’s pulling faces at me through the glass. I try to ignore them both and concentrate on what Baz is saying. So far I’ve been lucky—and no sport.
‘QUESTION number three!’ says Baz. ‘What did Florence Nightingale carry in her pocket wherever she went? Was it A: a stethoscope? B: a lamp? Or C: an owl? I’ll read that again for you …’
That’s easy. Florence Nightingale was The Lady with the Lamp. Everybody knows that.
‘A lamp,’ I tell Baz. ‘B.’
The line goes silent.
‘Daniel,’ says Baz, very quiet and calm. He always does this voice, like he’s about to give me bad news, just before he tells me I’m right and I’m through to the next round.
But not this time.
‘That’s the WRONG answer.’
My heart drops to the bottom of my ribcage and rolls around like a lost football.
‘Florence Nightingale,’ says Baz, ‘actually carried a baby OWL in her pocket! Which MEANS—it’s time to bring in our CHALLENGER! Who’s on line two tonight, Cheryl?’
‘Hello?’ A woman’s voice. She sounds nervous.
‘Ah ha! A LADY challenger! Excellent! And who might you be, my love?’
‘Hello, Baz, it’s Shirley … Shirley Powers, from Marston.’
‘SHIRLEEE POWERS! WELCOME to the show, Shirley. That’s a great name POWERS! Are you Mrs Powers? Did you ACQUIRE that name? Or have you always been powerful?’
Shirley laughs. ‘It’s my husband’s name.’
‘Well, it’s YOUR name as well now!’ says Baz. ‘So, Shirley—are you feeling powerful tonight? Have you got the POWER to challenge our champion?’
‘Yep. Sure have, Baz,’ says Shirley, sounding more confident every minute.
‘FANTASTIC!’ says Baz, ‘that’s what I LIKE to hear! But more importantly—DO YOU FEEL LUCKEEE?’
Shirley feels lucky.
I don’t, and I’m getting daggers from the bloke waiting to use the phone. He’s wearing a Bartman—Avenger of Evil T-shirt, with a picture of Bart Simpso
n in superhero guise—except the picture’s all warped and distorted by the gigantic belly underneath. I’ve never seen anyone look less like an avenger of evil than this guy.
Shirley’s first question is a sport one. I don’t know the answer, but she does. Straight away, no problem. Lucky? She just knows.
Question two: music. How easy are they going to make it? I bet Baz chooses the questions deliberately. All these things are fixed. They don’t want anyone to actually win!
The bloke outside bangs on the wall of the phone box and shouts through the glass. ‘Are you going to be long?’
I shake my head and make apologetic shrugging gestures. He scowls and looks at his watch. Jay has stopped pulling faces at me and is watching Bartman instead, but I’m not really concentrating on them. Something marvellous has just happened—Shirley got her question wrong! Which means I’m still in with a chance.
‘THIS is what it’s all about, boys and girls!’ says Baz. ‘Two MIGHTY warriors locked HEAD TO HEAD in mortal combat! OK, maybe not mortal—but HEY! this is the Baz Bedtime Bonanza! This ain’t playtime!’ The theme music from the Rocky films starts playing in the background. ‘So this is where we are, folks. In the BLUE corner—Daniel THE ICEMAN Roach, with TWO correct answers on the board. In the RED corner, our challenger this evening—Shirley SUPER Powers, our very own Wonder Woman! Shirley has one answer on the board, one miss and ONE MORE CHANCE to take Danny Boy, our reigning Baz Bedtime Bonanza champion, to a SUDDEN-DEATH knock-out! But …’ Baz pauses and the line hums. ‘If Shirley gets this one wrong—then Daniel is through to the next round.
‘It’s down to you, Shirley. Have YOU got THE POWER? Are you READY?’
‘Ready,’ says Shirley, still sounding confident.
‘Do you FEEL lucky?’
I don’t catch Shirley’s answer, because there’s a noise outside—a strange high-pitched yelp.
I look through the glass and see Jay hanging from Bartman’s trouser leg by his teeth. I can only guess that the bloke was about to hassle me again, and Jay slipped into Attack-Dog Mode.
I clamp my hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone and push open the door.
‘Jay! What are you doing?’
Jay looks at me and lets go.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ says Bartman, backing away.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? He should be locked up. He’s not right in the head!’
Jay growls and lunges for him again. The Avenger of Evil almost trips over in his haste to get away.
‘Jay! Leave! Come here, good boy!’ I say, slapping my thigh. It sounds crazy, but it’s the only thing Jay will respond to when he’s in this mood.
The bloke stares at us. ‘You’re mad, both of you. I should call the police!’
For a second I panic—that’s the last thing we need! Then I remember what I’m holding.
‘Maybe you should,’ I say, waving the telephone at him. ‘Too bad the phone’s in use!’
I grab Jay and pull him inside the kiosk with me, then put the receiver back to my ear. I hope they didn’t catch any of that on air.
The line is dead.
No!
Does that mean I lost? Did they cut me off because I’m out?
But if Shirley got her question right, it would mean a sudden-death knock-out …
Frantically, I dial the radio station again. It rings for ages before somebody answers.
‘Good evening, Radio Ham!’
‘Hello, it’s Daniel Roach, I think I got cut off.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s Daniel Roach. I was on Baz’s Bedtime Bonanza—the quiz.’
‘I’m afraid you’re too late, it’s already started.’
‘No! I know! I was on it. I got cut off!’
‘I’m sorry, sir, you’re too late.’ I realize it’s a different voice to the one who normally answers. This person doesn’t know who I am!
‘Please! They need me for the knock-out! I got cut-off! Ask Cheryl—Baz’s producer. Tell her it’s Daniel Roach. Please!’
The woman lets out a long sigh, just so I know exactly how much of her time I’m wasting. ‘Hold the line.’
The phone clicks and Baz’s voice is in my ear … Daniel, are you there?
‘Yeah, I’m here!’
We seem to have lost Daniel, says Baz. Has Mr Ice finally CRACKED under the pressure?
‘No! I’m here!’ I’m screaming down the phone, but Baz can’t hear me!
Now, he’s talking about Pop in the Park … we’ll have LOADS of Radio Ham goodies to give away: T-shirts, hats, badges—and I’ll be doing a SPECIAL one-off, Baz in the Park Bonanza, with a MEGA mind-blowing prize for the winner! You’d be a MONKEY to miss it!
Then a record comes on and I realize what’s happening. When you phone up Radio Ham and they put you on hold, they play what’s going out on air to you down the phone. Baz isn’t talking to me, he’s on the radio. But what happened in the quiz? What did he mean about me cracking under the pressure?
There’s a click and the woman comes back on the line.
‘I’ll just put you through, sir.’
‘Hi, Daniel!’ I’ve never been so glad to hear Cheryl’s voice. ‘We lost you. I’m not quite sure what happened.’
‘I dunno, the line just went dead.’ I wonder how much she heard.
‘Not to worry. I don’t know when you were disconnected, but you’ll be pleased to hear that Shirley got her third question wrong, so you’re through to the next round.’
I stagger from the phone box dripping with sweat. Thankfully there’s no sign of Bartman. All the same, it might be wise to make ourselves scarce, in case he comes back.
‘Why did you bite that man?’
‘I didn’t,’ says Jay. ‘I told him to be quiet, because you needed to concentrate on the telephone but he wouldn’t listen. So I turned into Scooby-Doo, and he bit him.’
I nod. ‘Right … OK.’ I ruffle Jay’s hair. ‘Good dog!’
‘I’m not a dog, stupid!’
‘Sorry! Well … tell Scooby I said thanks, next time you see him then.’
‘OK,’ says Jay.
For the second time in two nights, I go into the kitchen and throw away the note I left for Mum.
Where is she? She should be back by now. What if something has happened to her?
The thought rests an icy hand on my neck.
I shrug it off, and remind myself that it wouldn’t be the first time she’s left us on our own for a few days. Besides, if something bad had happened, an accident or something, the police would have been round here by now.
Mum’ll be fine—it’s me and Jay I need to worry about.
I learned that lesson the hard way.
A year before we moved here, Mum tried to kill herself.
I got back from school and I knew something was wrong the moment I opened the door. The television was on, but the front room was empty. I called out, but nobody answered. I assumed they’d gone out, until I saw the spilled drink on the carpet and biscuits all over the settee. Mum would never have left a mess like that, not in those days.
I tried the kitchen and checked the garden, then went upstairs. The bedroom I shared with Jay was empty, so was the bathroom. I left Mum’s room till last.
The curtains were closed. It was dark and shadowy inside, but I could see them both lying on the bed. For a moment I thought they were dead. I couldn’t move, just stood there in the doorway, thinking I was going to be sick. Then Jay’s head shot up and he grinned at me.
‘Didn’t you hear me calling?’ I was angry and relieved at the same time.
Jay just laughed and said ‘Boo!’ like it was a game. Then I realized Mum still hadn’t moved.
‘Mum asleep!’ said Jay, giving her a prod. ‘She’s been asleep ages! I’m bored.’ He climbed off the bed. ‘Come and play with me.’
I was sure she was dead then.
I took Jay downstairs and told him to watch some telly. I didn’
t want to go back up, but I had to.
The room smelt bad. I made myself switch on the light, and that’s when I saw the sick on the carpet, a trail of it from Mum’s mouth across the duvet. Her eyes were closed and her skin was the colour of Blu-Tack, but she was still breathing.
I ran straight out of the house and got Sheila from next door. That was my first mistake. But I didn’t know any better then, I still trusted people. I’d always been told that if I ever needed help, I was to go and find a policeman or tell a grown-up, and they would know what to do.
The ambulance came and took Mum away, and me and Jay had to go and stay next door with Sheila and Graeme. Sheila was nice, she used to come round and drink coffee with Mum sometimes, but I didn’t really know Graeme. I got the feeling he didn’t want us there. So when it was Jay’s bedtime, I volunteered to go up as well, just to get out of Graeme’s way.
We were sharing a big double bed and I think I must have fallen asleep, because Jay woke me up, snivelling. At first I thought he was just missing Mum, then I felt the wet on his pyjamas and saw the stain on the sheets. They probably wouldn’t have found out, except Sheila chose that exact moment to come and check we were all right.
She was fine about it though and started to get clean sheets out of a cupboard, but then Graeme came in. He saw what had happened and went ballistic. Jay started crying and Graeme shouted at him to shut up. When Jay didn’t stop, Graeme slapped him.
For a second nobody moved. It was like in a film when the action freezes and the camera pans round so you can see everyone’s face. Graeme was at the opposite side of the bed, leaning over Jay, the veins in his neck bulging. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air towards him. I think the surprise knocked him off balance, because we both ended up in a heap on the floor—which is when I started laying into him, until Sheila dragged me off.
After that, I had to go and stay with a kid I knew from school, leaving Jay with Sheila and Graeme. I was allowed to go round and see him each evening, before Graeme got home from work, but when it was time for me to leave, Jay always got really upset. It was horrible. I used to lie awake thinking about him, just a few streets away, all by himself.
There was nothing I could do about it. I tried telling people what had happened, but nobody would listen. They even sent me to a doctor who said I was transferring the grief and anger of Mum trying to commit suicide, onto Graeme.