‘Yes, but it’s an investment.’ Mum gestures towards the boxes and barrels with a sweep of her arms. ‘It will soon pay for itself. And it’s not half bad either. Did you try my first batch?’
Luke wrinkles his nose. Dad had bitterly complained of acid indigestion after sampling the first bottles over dinner with Simon and Laura, although Mum refused to admit that the wine was to blame, more the quantity he’d consumed. Luke fills his bowl with cornflakes and pats the pile lightly before negotiating his way over the obstacle course to get to the fridge. ‘It wasn’t the best wine I’ve ever tasted,’ he says.
Mum refastens her hair in a loose knot at the back of her head. ‘It wasn’t that bad – just a little tart. And I know how to fix that now, so I’m learning all the time. This lot will be perfect – just you wait and see. Anyway, we’ve still got eight bottles of that first lot to get through, and I expect it only improves with age. I might open another bottle tonight, see if it’s any better.’
Luke watches as Mum fiddles around with two pieces of tubing, trying to fix them together with a joiner.
‘I still think we should get some normal drink in on my birthday as well. Lagers. Maybe some Babycham, for the ladies.’ He grins. ‘Just in case some turn up. We don’t want to poison anyone.’
She pokes her tongue at him. ‘You should have a little more confidence in your old mum, Luke. All your teasing only makes me more determined to prove you wrong – they’ll soon be queuing up around the block to sample my marvellous wine.’
Luke opens the fridge and reaches into the door for the milk bottle. ‘Oh, God, Mum,’ he moans, waving the bottle at her. Half an inch of creamy milk swills around in the bottom. ‘Who finished the milk?’
‘I don’t know, Luke,’ Mum sighs. ‘It’s hours since I had my breakfast, and there was plenty left then.’
He drops the bottle back into the fridge door and slams it shut, causing the pickle jars to rattle loudly. ‘There’s never enough left by the time I have my breakfast!’
‘Maybe you should try getting up a bit earlier – I thought you were meant to be revising today? Look at the time – it’s almost nine o’clock. We’ve all been up since seven.’
Kitty appears in the doorway, humming and swinging her doll by her side. ‘Lazy Lu-lu, lazy Lu-lu.’ She smirks as Mum shakes her head and Luke attempts to pour the unused cereal back into the box, scattering rogue flakes on the floor as they miss the packet and bounce off the table.
Mum stands with her hands on her hips, gazing into the garden as the rain continues to trickle down the windows, pooling in shimmering puddles on the outside sill. ‘The plants’ll be happy,’ she says. ‘There’s been talk of a drought, you know. Though I’ll believe it when I see it.’
Luke rolls out his neck irritably. ‘So, is there any bread, then?’
‘In the bread bin. Where else?’ She stoops to continue with her wine production, while Kitty wanders over and starts to fiddle with the barrels, trying to force her doll’s leg in through the opening at the top. Luke lets out a frustrated growl.
‘Brilliant,’ he says, dumping two pasty white crust ends on to the board. ‘Just brilliant.’ Pulling out the grill pan, Luke slaps the bread on to the rack with a clatter. ‘I’ll be malnourished by the time I reach the mainland,’ he says, searching around in the cupboard for jam.
Mum laughs, and she kisses him on the cheek before returning her focus to her wine barrels with a contented little smile.
By mid-afternoon the rain has slowed to a stop and Mum suggests they take a walk to Teddy’s Spar. Kitty insists on wearing her full wet-weather gear, including red welly boots and clear domed umbrella. She runs ahead all the way, jumping in the puddles gathered along the pavements and verges, where the rain struggles to drain into the baked earth.
Mum turns her face towards the dappled sky. ‘How refreshing. I hope we’ve had enough to bring the garden back to life – the ground’s got so hard, it’s a wonder anything grows at all.’
At the end of their road they come out into Grasslands Avenue, and Kitty points towards a purple gate on the other side of the pavement, where two chihuahuas yap and snarl through the wooden posts.
‘I hate those dogs,’ grumbles Luke. ‘At least the gate’s shut this time. Last time I came this way, they charged out at me, snapping at my heels. Little bastards.’
‘Luke.’
‘Well, they are. I had to chase them back in so they couldn’t attack anyone else.’
Mum glances over, before hooking her hand through his arm to speed him along. ‘Keep your voice down. That’s Sara Newbury’s house. You know, Marie’s old yoga teacher?’
Luke looks back over his shoulder. ‘Oh, yeah. The mad dog lady.’
‘Shh! Yes.’
‘Have you seen inside her front garden? I had a good nosy over the gate when I was putting the rats back in last time. It’s massive, and there are gnomes everywhere – hundreds of them. Creepy little things. They’re probably guarding the dog shit.’
‘Luke.’
‘Well,’ he says, as they near the shop. ‘She’s got six dogs, hasn’t she? That garden’s got to be one great big dog toilet, if you ask me. I’m surprised the gnomes haven’t all gone on strike over working conditions.’
Mum releases his arm. ‘Like the rest of the country.’
Outside the shop there’s a large puddle, which Luke steps around to hold the door open for his mum. He gestures for Kitty to follow behind her, but instead she takes a running jump at the puddle, soaking him right up to the chest of his fresh white T-shirt. Luke makes a grab for her – ‘You little –’ and she squeals, running in ahead of him, straight up the aisle to the sweet section.
He joins Mum, who’s chatting to Teddy over the counter.
‘Oh, Luke!’ she sighs, eyeing his muddy T-shirt.
‘But –’ He starts to point in Kitty’s direction, then stops himself as he realises how pathetic it would sound.
Mum turns back to Teddy. ‘As if I don’t have enough washing and ironing to keep me busy.’
‘These lads, eh?’ His voice is gravelly. ‘Always up to some kind of mischief. Ain’t that right, Luke?’
Teddy once told Luke he’s a real Cockney, but Luke’s not convinced he doesn’t just put on the accent to impress the holidaymakers.
He pushes his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and nods at Teddy. ‘Too true.’
‘So, Jo, love, ever give any thought to getting yourself a little job? You know I’m always after a bit of extra help here.’ Teddy’s on the inside of the lift-up counter, resting his tattooed forearms on the top. ‘We could do with a pretty face like yours behind the till.’
Mum reaches back towards the entrance for a shopping basket. ‘You know what, Teddy? I’d love to get out to work again, but it’s impossible to even think about with Kitty at home. She’s at nursery during term time, but that’s only half-days. I think I’ll have to wait until she’s started at school in September.’
‘Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.’
The door chime goes and a couple of young lads enter the shop. Teddy gives them a nod and they wander off towards the crisps, jangling their pennies in the palms of their hands.
‘Doesn’t seem so long since you were that age, does it, son?’ Teddy leans further on to the counter, lowering his voice. ‘So, tell me – how’s your love-life these days, Luke? Up to much?’
‘Ah, men’s talk,’ says Mum, unfolding her shopping list. ‘I think I’ll leave you to it.’ She hooks the basket over the crook of her elbow and makes her way towards the back of the shop, where Kitty’s still deliberating over the sweet selection.
Luke rubs the back of his neck. ‘Non-existent.’
Teddy pushes himself up to standing and stretches out his back, placing a meaty hand on the top of the till. ‘Really? I would’ve thought you’d have had loads of girlfriends by now.’ He reaches beneath the counter for a cigarette, lighting it up between two nicotine-yel
low fingers.
‘Oh, I’ve had a few girlfriends. But nothing serious really. I don’t know, I’m not all that good with girls.’
Teddy listens earnestly, the side of his mouth rising in a playful leer. ‘Still, plenty of time for all that, eh? You’ll want to sow your wild oats a bit, before you settle down.’
Luke laughs, flicking his long fringe off his face. ‘I’m off to college after the summer – going over to Brighton.’
‘So I hear,’ Teddy replies. He takes ten pence from a boy who’s just dropped a mountain of small chews on the counter. ‘Plenty of opportunities there, eh?’ he smirks. ‘If you know what I mean. That’s why they call it further education, so I hear.’
For a second they’re both distracted by a shrill voice at the back of the shop, greeting Mum. It’s Rhona, Teddy’s wife. Teddy’s face clouds over. ‘Tell you what, lad – make the most of it. Being young, I mean. It’s gone before you know it. I’ll be fifty-nine next week. Who’d’ve bloody thought it, eh?’
The little boy scoops up his sweets, making way for his friend, and Luke walks down the middle aisle to join his mother. He pauses before turning the corner, to hear the tail end of their conversation.
‘So you’ve never seen anything funny when you’ve been there?’ Rhona’s asking. Luke can just see the tips of her fingers resting on Mum’s wire basket. ‘Sara said they all throw their keys in a bowl!’
Mum laughs. ‘Oh, how silly. You know Sara’s fallen out with Marie?’ she says, in her breeziest voice. ‘It’ll just be sour grapes. Poor old Sara, she’s never been the same since Patrick died. It’s a shame, really.’
‘Well, yes, she certainly is an odd one –’ Rhona stops short when she spots Luke rounding the corner, and she taps Mum on the wrist, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. ‘We’ll have to get together for a cuppa, Joanna, and a proper catch-up. I’ll give you a ring?’
‘What’s up with her?’ Luke asks after Rhona has disappeared through the door marked ‘Private’. It leads to their flat upstairs; Luke knows because he had to go up there one afternoon a few years ago, to fetch his dad who had been out on an all-day bender with Teddy.
‘Shhhh!’ Mum whispers back. She looks rattled. ‘It’s nothing. Just a bit of silly gossip – you know what they’re like round here. Always after a bit of scandal.’
‘What about?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure.’ She scans the shelves as if she’s searching for something important.
‘You must know, or else you wouldn’t know it’s gossip, would you?’
‘For God’s sake, Luke!’ she hisses, grabbing a tin of gammon and slamming it into her basket. ‘Will you just drop it?’ She tilts her head meaningfully towards Kitty. ‘Please.’
Luke frowns at her hard, and she looks away quickly, busying herself, checking the shopping against her list. He takes the basket from her. ‘Sorry, Mum.’
She folds and unfolds the list in her hands. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. We’ve got Simon and Laura coming for supper tomorrow and I’m not really in the mood for it. I don’t know why your dad insists on filling our weekends up without asking me. It’s not him who has to do all the hard work preparing for it.’
Luke steps back to let a customer pass between them.
Mum scans the list. ‘And I was up late last night, waiting for your dad to get back home.’
‘Where was he this time?’
‘Out with Simon.’
‘Again?’
She turns and walks along the next aisle, running her index finger over the plastic product strips. ‘They had a staff meeting, and went on to the pub afterwards. You know how Uncle Simon likes to drink.’
Luke hasn’t called him Uncle Simon since he accidentally said it at school in front of Len, back in the third year. Len took the piss about it for weeks, what with Simon being a teacher at the school, and Luke quickly dropped the ‘Uncle’ bit at home, hoping no one would notice or mind. ‘I know he’s Dad’s mate,’ he says to Mum, ‘but isn’t the headmaster meant to set a good example? I’ve never met such a pisshead.’
‘What?’ Mum replies vacantly, placing a loaf of sliced white bread into the basket.
Luke tuts and turns away, peering around the aisle, towards the sweet shelves. ‘Where’s Kitty gone?’
At that moment, Kitty yells from the front of the shop.
‘Lu-uke!’ She’s at the till, teetering on tiptoes as she unloads an armful of sweets and chocolate bars on to the counter. Teddy raises his eyebrows as Mum and Luke join her at the till. ‘Lu-lu’s paying.’ Kitty tells him.
‘Lu-lu?’ Teddy smiles at Luke.
Mum takes the basket from Luke so he can search his pockets for change.
‘OK, Kitty. There – I’ve got 25p. You can have the Toffos and the buttons, and make the rest up in Black Jacks or something. But the other stuff has to go back.’
Kitty snarls and bites his wrist.
‘She’s a bright spark,’ says Teddy.
‘Kitty!’ Mum gasps, as if she’s never seen her do anything so awful before. She shakes her head in embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Teddy. She’s been pretending to be a dog this week.’
‘You said!’ Kitty whines, narrowing her eyes at Luke.
‘I said I’d get you some sweets,’ Luke replies, rubbing his wrist. He reaches out to ruffle her hair and she ducks away to stand by the entrance with her arms folded crossly over her chest. Luke gives her his stern face. ‘I didn’t say I’d buy you the whole shop.’
Choking his rough smoker’s cough, Teddy tries to conceal his amusement behind a hand. ‘And what about this lot, Jo, love?’ He bags up Mum’s shopping. ‘Shall I put it on tick?’
Outside, the cloudy sky is clearing, and they stroll home at a leisurely pace, sharing a bag of peanuts as they walk back along Grasslands Avenue, where the leaves shimmer with fresh moisture. Kitty is content now, her teeth glued together with a toffee. Just as they reach the junction to Blake Avenue, the chihuahuas run out from the purple gate, yipping and snarling at their feet. Kitty shrieks, holding her sweets high above her head.
‘Grrrr!’ Luke snarls back, stamping his foot towards them. ‘Bugger off, you little rats!’
Mum tugs the hem of his T-shirt. ‘Luke! Stop it. She’ll hear you.’
She speeds up to remove herself from the vicinity, as the dogs carry on snapping from a distance, too nervous to continue any further.
‘Who cares?’ he says, jogging to fall into step with her and glancing back again to glower at the dogs. ‘Those dogs are a bloody menace!’ He throws a peanut in the air, pausing briefly to let it plop into his mouth before catching up with her again. ‘God, Mum. You should chill out a bit, man.’
The chihuahuas give up and trot away, disappearing through the gate as the clouds above their bungalow split and separate, allowing the sunshine to pour through, warm and bright.
‘Urgh, those little baldies gives me the willies,’ Mum says once they’re out of earshot.
‘Rats,’ says Kitty.
‘I can understand having one or two dogs,’ says Luke. ‘But six? Apparently she’s obsessed with them, carries photos of them around in her purse, like they’re her children. Dad told me she’s thinking of setting up a dog portrait studio in her home – taking soft-focus pictures for adoring dog owners.’ He laughs, his face freezing mid-smile as he looks up to see Samantha Dyas cycling towards them from the other direction, slowing down as she bumps over the uneven pavement towards Grasslands Avenue.
‘Hi, Luke!’ she calls over her shoulder as she passes, stopping on the pavement a few feet away, tilting on to one tanned leg. ‘I hear you’re going to be starting work over at Sunshine Bay tomorrow,’ she says. The new sunlight sparkles behind her long fair hair, which drapes prettily around the shoulders of her orange cagoule. When Luke doesn’t reply, she twitches her little nose as if amused. ‘Philip Beckett told me – one of the managers, you know?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Luke replies, tugging at his earlo
be and hoping Samantha hasn’t noticed the flush of his cheeks.
‘I’m working there too,’ she says brightly, hooking back the pedal with her toe and pushing off. ‘So I’ll see you up there!’ She tinkles her bell and disappears behind the hedge at the corner of their street.
Luke tries to subdue his delight, and avoids eye contact with his mum as they carry on along the path, knowing she’s desperate to ask about Samantha. After a moment, she rubs his back. ‘Now, she’s rather nice, isn’t she? What’s her name?’
‘Mum. That’s just Samantha. She’s in the year below me at school.’
‘Just Samantha?’
‘Yes. Just Samantha. You know, the vicar’s daughter.’ He purposely bumps her leg with the shopping bag and she laughs, dodging out of the way. ‘Anyway, she’s going out with Len, so I doubt very much that she’d be interested in me.’
‘Len Dickens?’
‘Len Dickhead. God know what she sees in him.’
‘Pity.’ She sighs, scooping up her hair and letting it drop over one shoulder. ‘I would’ve thought you’d make someone a rather nice boyfriend.’
‘Oi! Don’t write me off just yet. I’m not even out of my teens.’
‘No, you’re right. I guess you’re still my little boy, aren’t you?’ She puts her arm through his and pulls him close. ‘You’ll be flying the nest soon, though, won’t you?’ she says with sadness in her voice.
‘It’s what we’re meant to do, Mum.’
‘Oh, I know,’ she replies, raising an arm to wave at Dad as he turns the car into their driveway at the far end of the street. ‘Just don’t be in too much of a hurry to grow up, love, that’s all. Being a grown-up… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’
Within twenty-four hours the sun has returned, the moisture from the brief rainfall now sucked from the dry earth as if it never came at all. Luke potters about in the garden with Kitty, killing time before he sets off for his first shift at Sunshine Bay, and avoiding the kitchen, where Mum and Dad are having another argument. This time Dad came home towing a second-hand trailer tent he’d bought from the school caretaker and Mum went mad, telling him she’d rather die than sleep in that mouldy old thing. Why can’t they holiday in Italy or France, like other families? she wants to know. A nice little gîte in the Dordogne; a hotel in Florence? They’ve been fighting over it ever since.
Summer of '76 Page 6