“Were you scared?”
He pursed his lips. “A bit in the first couple of laps but then the adrenaline kicked in and I was on such a high! Though once I was sitting there trapped against the fence seeing great hunks of reinforced metal flying round the corner at seventy miles an hour at me, I guess I got another momentary flutter.” He admitted.
“Yeah well don’t forget yourself in your driving test,” I said to put the boot in while I still had a chance, “and go wacking the car ahead to get by at a red light.”
He shot me a look full of detestation. Quite like old times, I thought.
The journey was negotiated with no problems, apart from two emergency stops on the hard shoulder for the men to take a piss. And then Quinn and I had to get a taxi back from Rob’s place, as of course he now couldn’t drop us back.
As I went to leave Quinn at the garden gate he stopped me and had the cheek to ask me if I could borrow my Dad’s car tomorrow to ferry some stuff round to Danny’s house for him. “I asked Dad if he could do it, but he just snarled at me.” Quinn pulled a face. “I don’t know what’s got into them at the moment. Mum's just being a constant grumpy cow and Dad’s gone all silent.”
Since Kathleen merely being a grumpy cow sounded like rather better behaviour than usual I couldn’t see what the problem was, and told him so.
He stomped off.
Inside the house I instantly knew that SHE had been here as I could smell that dreadful oversweet scent of hers. When I walked into the kitchen and found an enormous metal travel cage being thrown around by a hysterically circling and barking spaniel, it didn’t take an honours degree to work out that she must be still be in the house. I edged my way around the metal contraption and refused to talk to the dog while getting myself a glass of apple juice and opening a tin of Ambrosia Creamed Rice. I retreated to the living room to eat it straight out of the tin while watching any old crap on TV that I could find. I abandoned the tin and glass in the living room as I had no intention of setting the bloody dog off barking again and went upstairs. As I passed Dad’s room to go into mine, I heard some rhythmic thudding and mattress squeaking noises that I devoutly hoped were not what they sounded like. I had to pass again to get to the bathroom for a shower, and now the rhythm was a bit more urgent and there were little panting noises and a smothered moan and a ‘sssh’ from Dad. Oh my God they were doing it in there! There was no light on under Jamie’s door so I guess they’d thought they were going to be on their own for the evening. I didn’t know whether to slam the door on the bathroom just to let them know how I felt and embarrass them, or whether to creep around so they thought they’d got away with it. I found that I was too embarrassed myself to let them know I was hearing anything so opted for the latter and allowed the noise of the shower engulfing my head to obscure anything else, and by the time I came out again all there was to be heard was some low conversational murmuring and an occasional girly giggle. I wished I hadn’t pissed Quinn off now and had gone back to his place for an hour or so – this was pants. Bad phrasing that. The last thing I wanted to think about right now was pants, Dad’s, currently off. Aaaaargh!
Next morning I woke to the sound of a woman’s laughter downstairs. I groaned. I looked forward to my Sunday lie-ins and the laid back start to the day. Now I was going to have to negotiate HER and IT. I put it off for a bit, then heard music issuing from Jamie’s room and went into him.
“SHE’s downstairs,” I told him with a scornful twist of the lips, “and last night she and Dad were noisily shagging in Dad’s bedroom with me right outside! It was completely disgusting!”
But Jamie was back in offensive mode. “Least it’s better than Dad tossing off every Saturday night to those porno mags he keeps under his mattress.”
I stared at him revolted. “How could you! That’s disgusting!”
He gave me a sly malicious smile, and I stalked out.
From downstairs the smell of bacon and eggs was wafting. I figured if I didn’t go down soon, Dad would be calling us down anyway. I hovered around for a minute or two, trying to put off the evil moment of entering the kitchen, and as I did so I noticed that the photo of Mum in the park with the two of us when we were little, was nowhere to be seen. I stared fixedly at the absent space on top of the sideboard. Surely it had been there during the week hadn’t it? It’s funny how you don’t notice something until it’s not there. Maybe it had been damaged by the fire?
Dad opened the kitchen door and started slightly when he saw me just standing there. “Grub up,” he said.
Through the door that woman smiled gaily at me. “Just dishing up, Petal, hope you’re hungry!” I stared fixedly at the apron she was wearing and at the frying pan in one of her hands and the non-stick fish slice in the other and was overwhelmed by a stupid feeling of sick disappointment. The Sunday morning fry-up had always been our little family tradition. And it was Dad’s special weekend role to make it. I never did, always Dad. I’d expected Dad to drag me in to be polite to her while he cooked for us, but I hadn’t expected her to be doing it. I became overwhelmed with a sensation of something being spoiled for ever and bubbled over with a burning anger that I couldn’t control.
“I’m not eating anything that she’s cooked,” I lashed out.
Dad looked taken aback. “You don’t need to be like that,” he said sharply.
I grabbed my biking leather off the hook. “I’m going to have my breakfast at MacDonald’s.” I marched towards the door.
Back in the kitchen I heard him say something to her.
“Oh that’s a shame!” she trilled.
I slammed out, nearly catching a snuffling doggy nose in it as I did so. I sat on the wall at the bottom of our garden and rang Quinn. “Do you want to come down to MacDonald’s for a breakfast bun?”
“Yes I bloody well do!” He exploded. I was taken aback by the strength of feeling in his voice. “And do you mind if I bring Siân?”
“Well I suppose I couldn’t feel much worse than I already do,” I said ungraciously. “So go ahead.”
I went and got on my bike and started it up. A couple of minutes later the two of them emerged and got on his and we set off. Just as well it wasn’t too far, as in my temper I’d walked out without my driving gloves or my scarf and since yesterday’s fine day the weather had deteriorated and it was quite chilly and verging on the drizzly.
In the town centre MacDonald’s the siblings’ expressions looked as black as mine. We all seemed to need cheering up and went for double triple pile ups of everything you can possibly fit in a bun with extra large fries and enormous cokes.
Holed up in a corner seat, the source of their annoyance finally spilled out.
“Mum went to early mass this morning,” Quinn told me in dire tones, “and then when she got back, Dad and Mum announced a ‘family conference’.”
Siân was pulling all shades of expressions in the background. I carried on munching, not yet affected by anything they had to say. I noticed she had added a new piercing, a tiny blue gemstone the colour of her eyes, into her left nostril. Siân may be a little bitch, but I couldn’t deny that she was a pretty, stylish and sexy little bitch.
“And get this! Apparently Mum's pregnant again!” Quinn sounded completely revolted.
“And Declan only just potty trained!” Siân said glumly. “Now the whole screaming sleepless nights and ‘Siân can you just change the baby’s nappy will you?’ is gonna be starting all over again!”
I added up in my head. “That’ll make it five won’t it?” I pulled a face on their behalf.
“Yeah and it makes them nearly ready for retirement by the time this one leaves home!” Siân pointed out.
“Doesn’t she use something?” I asked.
“Yeah the rhythm method,” Siân said in withering tones.
I had sudden disorientating visions of Con and Kathleen dancing around the kitchen table to the samba or the rumba. I suppressed the image of Con doing a tango with a red rose in h
is teeth and asked with an admirably straight face, “What does that entail?”
“It entails getting bloody pregnant, that’s what,” Quinn snapped. “Just every three or four years instead of every fucking year.”
“Apparently Dad got a bit fresh and wouldn’t take no for an answer right in the middle of the month,” Siân said with a grimace.
“My God, does she tell you this sort of stuff?” I was horrified.
“Apparently, because I’m the girl I’m supposed to be supporting her through all this,” Siân explained gloomily.
“I don’t know why she didn’t just give him a blow job instead!” Quinn said.
“Oh my God, ple-e-a-se,” I begged. “I just don’t want to know!” I didn’t know whether to clamp my hands over my ears or over my mouth. Now on top of a horrid picture of my own father tossing off to porno mags, I now had an irretrievable vision in my head of Kathleen with her head down and… Ple-e-a-se no!
“Don’t you think that when men get to a certain age, their bits should just shrivel up and drop off?” I directed at Siân.
“Excuse me,” Quinn interpolated with some feeling. “I’m hoping all my bits are going to be fully functioning till I die! It might be the only fun left to me when I’m eighty…” He took a massive bite of his burger, then added indistinctly through the mouthful with a spray of crumbs, “Charlie Chaplin was still fathering kids when he was eighty.”
Siân darted a disgusted look at him and brushed the crumbs theatrically off her arm and picked a couple of floaters out of her coke. “Who’s gonna want you when you’re eighty and gone all wrinkly?”
“Some flighty young seventy year old two doors up in the old people’s home,” Quinn said promptly.
“There you are Siân,” I told her dryly. “He’s already planning to turn us in for a younger model.”
Siân’s lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “No-one’s gonna turn me in for a younger model.” Her tone was determined.
Yes they will, I thought meanly, if you turn out as much of a cow as your mother.
There was a short silence while we all glumly munched. The scrunching of fries was the only sound for a moment or two.
“So make sure you don’t go and get pregnant as well or there’ll be two of you,” I suddenly directed at Siân. I’d asked her once if she was on the pill and she’d gone all mindyourownbusiness on me. “I hope you’re not sticking to all this Catholic nonsense.”
Siân darted me a look full of dislike. But after a moment of crunching systematically down a couple of daintily held fries she made a gesture with her right thumb jabbing upwards along her left upper arm, like she didn’t want to have to say it aloud.
I tried to interpret it. “Depot injection?”
She shook her head. “Implant. Lasts three years. Only I had it in the bum so my mother wouldn’t ever get to see it.”
I was secretly impressed. Quinn looked a combination of amazed and relieved. “You kept that bloody quiet!”
She tossed her head. “Well you’re just useless at keeping secrets, admit it!” She said dismissively. And she did a ‘yak, yak, yak’ sign at him with her hand.
The conversation lulled again. Quinn, having shovelled his own meal down his big gob ahead of us, leaned satisfied back in his chair with his arms over the back. “Did you ask your dad about borrowing the car?” He directed at me.
I shook my head. “I ended up having an argument with him because that woman was loudly bonking his brains out in our house last night.”
“The dirty devil,” Quinn said automatically as though he felt something would be expected of him. “So no car then? Damn. Maybe we should try Kes and see if he can persuade his mum to be a taxi driver?”
Siân eagerly seconded that one, so Quinn got on the phone to him. Apparently the answer was no chance as his mother was at this very moment throwing saucepans at Ken’s head and screaming that she wished she’d never married him, and the twins had just defaced half the kitchen after watching a programme on Banksy. So ten minutes later Kes walked through the door and joined us at our table.
“Danny’s dad’ll do it,” he suggested.
So Quinn got on the phone again and a few minutes later we were back on the bikes and heading across town towards Danny’s.
There we at last found a welcome. Danny’s parents were really laid back. That’s why the boys always had band practice there. That and the fact that they couldn’t be arsed to lug Danny’s drum kit around to somewhere else. Lisa and Danny had been sleeping together since they were fifteen and Lisa said that Danny’s mother just brought them a cup of tea in bed in the morning, and Danny’s dad just winked at Danny and made ‘get in there’ gestures at him when they set off up the stairs.
Danny’s dad was willing to do anything for us as long as it didn’t involve too much effort, so it wasn’t long before he wheezed his great bulk out to the car and squeezed it behind the wheel. And then he sat outside the Quinns’ house and watched us benevolently as we hauled the enormous speakers down the drive and argued how we were going to fit both them and us into the back of the car. In the end the seats had to go down and we had to all scrunch in on top of the speakers.
“Where’d you get these?” Danny asked admiringly.
“Off this thing called ‘Freecycle’,” Quinn said. “People who don’t want stuff just give it away. But I don’t know how these’ll sound till we get them matched up to a transformer…”
Back at Danny’s they decided to ring Oz and turn the day into a new song development day, then kicked themselves for not thinking of it sooner and picking Jamie up from next door when they’d gone for the speakers.
“But no-one really notices what the bassist’s doing do they?” Quinn argued. “He can just wing it on the night!”
While the boys and Siân headed out to their practice pad in the garage, Siân not being one to let Kes have a moment on his own if she can help it, the rest of us girls hung out on the sofa indoors.
“How’s Naz?” I asked Beth who’d turned up with Oz.
She pulled a face. “I don’t know. Every morning either her father or her older brother drops her off at the gate, and then every afternoon one or other of them picks her up. In class she looks lack-lustre and droops at her table, but she won’t talk to me about anything that’s going on. But on the other hand,” she added, “she’s still getting better marks than the rest of us put together for absolutely everything!”
“Ok,” I said. Well at least they were still sending her to school and her grades weren’t suffering.
“So what exactly happened?” Beth’s dark eyes probed curiously.
Shit, I thought. Nasim clearly hasn’t told her anything. So I daren’t break her confidence. I saw Beth’s face close up when I just shrugged. Beth and I had never been best mates, especially when I found out she was sleeping with Quinn at a time when Quinn and I were sworn enemies, but we’d always remained civil. Now maybe, with Nasim and the band in common we might have been able to become friends. But Nasim’s secrecy was putting paid to that.
I escaped by getting up to go and help Danny’s Ma who was heaving herself around the kitchen making piles of toasted sandwiches for everyone. I remembered the night we’d stayed over and I’d had to borrow her clothes. I’ve seen your knickers and you don’t know it, I thought. And her knickers were so huge that I was pretty certain I could have put them on and pulled the leg holes up to my ears and hooked them over. But maybe I’m exaggerating?
That evening as I sat on the settee at home, mesmerised by a particularly hypnotic car advert on TV, Dad sat down beside me. He waited for the advert to finish and I just knew he was going to try to talk to me about HER. I got up and tossed the remote into his lap. “Night Dad,” I said, deliberately yawning. Half way to the stairs I turned back. “Have you seen Con recently?” I asked him.
He shook his head. No he’d been too busy with that floozy no doubt. Although, to give him his due, he hadn’t stayed out a single night
since the firebombing.
“Well you might find he needs cheering up,” I suggested. “Kathleen’s pregnant again.”
Upstairs, I waited till I heard him switch over to another channel, then I darted into his bedroom. Her scent faintly wreathed the room and she’d left a pot of face cream on the bedside table. Obviously expecting to be here regularly then. I yanked open the draw of the bedside table. A tube of lubricant jelly, a third of the way down already! Urgh! Then I went to the bed and hauled the mattress up with all my strength and looked underneath. Nothing. Then the other side. Also nothing. But then maybe Dad had removed them when he knew SHE was coming round? So I still didn’t know whether Jamie was just winding me up or not! I retired in defeat.
On Monday at work, Quinn dropped in. He drew up on his bike, got off and came over to where I was working. He had his RAC uniform on. He leant on the roof of the car I was working on.
“Do you want to come to a Walter Trout gig on Thursday?”
“Who the hell’s Walter Trout when he’s at home?” I said sarcastically, with visions of that wall mounted plastic fish that sings Bob Marley songs at you as you walk past it.
“Only voted one of the top ten guitarists of all time!” Quinn informed me in offended tones. “He’s on at the Brewery Arts Centre in town.”
“Well he can’t be that famous if he’s only on at the local Arts Centre,” I contended.
“Well he is pretty old now,” Quinn admitted. “But he’s been with Canned Heat, Santana and John Mayall in his time and his fingers still work fine…” His eyes watched my face. “Kes, Siân and Oz are coming. I’ll pay for you,” he added.
Well if he was paying… “Ok,” I agreed.
His face lit up and he leant over to kiss me, but I did a Dad on him and managed to angle my face so he couldn’t snog me in front of the men.
Paradise Postponed (Not Quite Eden Book 2) Page 11