by Byrne, Tanya
I all but ran to the shop opposite the park and back.
He was waiting for me under the bandstand, right where I had told him to. He smiled when he saw the blue plastic bag in my hand. ‘What’s that?’
I grinned. ‘You’ll see. Come on.’
I led him to the biggest tree in the park. When we stopped under it, he looked up, clearly bewildered as I put the rose and my sketchbook into the bag. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s a tree, Sid.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I know that. What are we meant to do with it?’
‘We’re gonna climb it.’
The crease between his eyebrows deepened. ‘Do what?’
‘Come on.’
I took a step towards the base of the tree as he crossed his arms. ‘When I said that I wanted to do something, Rose, I meant drink something. Perhaps do something illegal.’
I ignored him as I tried to find my footing. I hadn’t climbed a tree since I was at St Jude’s, so it took a couple of attempts. But, eventually, I got high enough to reach for a branch then another and another. The blue plastic bag rustled hysterically each time I raised my arm; it sounded like applause.
‘I’m not doing that,’ he called out as he watched me. ‘I can’t climb trees.’
‘’Course you can,’ I shouted back, my nails digging into the rough trunk.
‘I’m a London boy born and bred, Ro. They only have parks here so we know what trees look like. If you were asking me to climb a McDonald’s, maybe.’
‘Get up here, London boy,’ I told him as I tested the weight of one of the thicker branches. Content that it was sturdy enough to support my weight, I clambered on to it. I laughed when I did it, a breathless gasp of a laugh. My hands were cut, my nails ruined, but it felt so good to be up there, sitting on that branch with the whole of London at my feet.
When I caught my breath, I reached into the bag and pulled out a can of beer. I waved it at him with a grin and as soon as he saw it, he launched himself at the tree. My heart leapt into my mouth when he lost his footing once, then twice, but he got to me eventually and the fact he did was a testament to what a teenage boy will do for a can of Stella.
‘You’re nuts, Rose Glass,’ he said, completely out of breath as he pulled himself on to the branch. He wobbled around for a moment or two, but when he found his balance, he leaned back into the curve of the tree and reached his hand out. ‘I almost broke my neck getting up here, so give me my beer. I’ve earned it.’
I handed it to him with a proud smile. ‘Here you go, Tarzan.’
He turned away from me to open it, but as he brought the can up to his mouth, he stopped and stared out at the horizon, his eyes wide.
‘I know,’ I said smugly, getting a can for myself out of the bag. I thought about the first time I climbed that tree in Brighton, how I’d looked out and seen things I’d never seen before. Secret things only I knew about. Me and the seagulls.
‘You can see for miles!’
‘I know.’
‘You can see the gherkin.’
‘I know,’ I said with a giggle, opening the can and leaning back against the tree.
He looked at me, his cheeks pink. ‘Why have I never climbed a tree before?’
I shrugged and took a sip of beer. ‘I dunno. It’s better in summer, when there are leaves and stuff, because you can hide,’ I told him, but it was still amazing up there. It smelt so clean, of wet leaves and earth and old wood.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Sid shook his head. ‘It’s like seeing London for the first time.’
It was, I suppose, from a different angle, anyway, which is why I took him up there. It’s good to see things the wrong way around sometimes, to see the bits you’re not supposed to see, like the tops of vans and people’s underwear hanging on washing lines.
The sky was a different colour up there, too. It was this deep, deep red – cough-syrup red. I wanted to reach up and lick it. I think that’s why I liked climbing trees, because I felt closer to it, like if I stretched a little further, I could touch it and it would be mine. I think Sid got that because he was looking up at the sky as though he was claiming a piece of it, too.
I heard someone walking along the path beneath us and looked down as a man walked under the tree. He was on his phone and kept saying, ‘Yeah, I told him.’
Sid and I watched him pass and when he was out of sight, Sid looked across at me. ‘He doesn’t know we’re here.’
I raised an eyebrow and smiled. ‘I know.’
‘This is amazing, Rose.’
He shook his head again and finally took a mouthful of beer. I’d already finished my can and was opening another when he turned to his left and gasped, pointing at the three tower blocks on the horizon, the ones that didn’t quite touch the clouds.
‘You can see where I live from up here!’
I turned to look at them too. ‘Which one do you live in?’
‘The middle one.’
‘I used to live in the one on the left.’
I shouldn’t have told him, I know, but up there I felt safe. Protected.
He stared at me, open mouthed. ‘You lived on the Scarbrook Estate?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I thought you were born ’round here? Don’t you live in Islington?’
‘Yeah, now. I was born on the Scarbrook Estate. Literally, the lift was broken so my mum gave birth in the stairwell. I couldn’t wait to get out, apparently.’
I chuckled to myself, but he kept staring at me, his forehead creased. ‘You’re winding me up. You don’t talk like you’re from the Scarbrook Estate.’
‘Well, I am.’
‘What floor?’
‘Twelfth. Penthouse, baby.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I dunno.’ I shrugged and looked away. ‘I heard you telling Nancy that you were from the Scarbrook Estate, but you weren’t really talking to me.’
As soon as I said it, the air between us tightened. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean to. I guess it was true, but I didn’t know that it had upset me until I heard myself say it.
‘It’s okay. You weren’t even looking at me,’ I added with a small laugh, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘I don’t think you knew I was there.’
He didn’t say anything to that, just looked at me for a long moment.
I shrugged at him. It wasn’t his fault; it was just this thing, this force, that brought him and Juliet together the moment they met. He looked at her sometimes like he didn’t know how to stop. Walls fell, the ceiling peeled off, furniture blew away like dead leaves until all that was left was her, and he’d look at her like she was the only thing he could see for miles.
No one will ever look at me like that now.
I would look at him, looking at her, and I’d want to tell him that I understood, that I knew what it was like to have Juliet Shaw punch a hole right through your life. Yeah, Sid and I had entirely different motives, but the need was the same, the focus. If anyone knew what it was like to think of nothing but Juliet Shaw, it was me.
The silence curled around us like smoke and when I saw him look down at the can of beer in his hand, I laughed, trying to soften the moment.
‘It’s alright, Sid,’ I said with a shrug, then took another long sip of beer. ‘I’m not having a go. I’m just saying. I know if it wasn’t for Nancy, we wouldn’t be friends.’
I watched his cheeks go from pink to red and when he turned his face away, it hurt. Not because he didn’t insist that we were great mates, but because I didn’t know until that moment how deeply Sid felt things. Say something like that to him and it hooks in, takes root.
‘So where did you move to?’ he asked suddenly, turning to look at me again.
The shock of it almost made me say Godalming, but I managed to catch my breath and remember Rose’s back-story. I thought of all those afternoons in the park, all those gigs singing along until we’d lost our voices and I couldn’t believe we’d never talked
about it.
‘Barnsbury.’
He nodded. ‘Very nice.’
‘We don’t live there any more. When Mum and Dad got divorced, they had to sell the house. Mum and I live in the flat near Angel tube now.’
‘Still, much nicer than the Scarbrook Estate. How’d you get out?’
I paused to swallow a mouthful of beer. I didn’t look at him again, I stared at the can. When I didn’t respond, I heard him say, ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s not that,’ I told him with a shrug, stopping to trace the letters on the side of the beer can with my finger. ‘I was just thinking about how long we’ve known each other.’
He finished my thought. ‘And we’ve never talked about this stuff?’
I smiled to myself and took another swig of beer.
‘I don’t even know what your dad does, Ro.’
He’s a surgeon. I’d said it so many times – to Juliet, to Mike and Eve, to Grace. It should have been on the tip of my tongue, but I said, ‘He’s a mechanic.’
As soon as I’d said it, I pressed my lips together, but it was too late.
It was out.
‘A mechanic?’
I began tracing the letters on the side of the beer can with my finger again. ‘Yeah. He and my uncle used to own a garage. It was doing well, but then Mum got pregnant with me. Dad says I was a surprise, but he was being nice, I was an accident.’ It wasn’t funny. I don’t know why I laughed. ‘They weren’t ready. They weren’t even nineteen. Dad wanted to be living in a house when they started a family, not in a one-bed flat on the Scarbrook Estate.’
I finished the beer and threw the empty can into the plastic bag. ‘So Dad started working his arse off to make some money,’ I continued. It was only then that I realised what I was doing, that I was telling him about Emily, not Rose. After months of being so careful, I don’t know why. I should have stopped, but he was looking at me, waiting for me to go on, and I thought – just for a second – that if I said it in the right way, he would understand.
‘He started working on account,’ I said, my voice not as steady, as I opened another can of beer, ‘fixing cars for cab firms and stuff. Then the accounts got bigger and when he landed one with the police we moved off the estate.’
Sid looked impressed, but I had to stop. I don’t know what happened next. I mean, I’ve read stuff in the newspapers; I know Dad wasn’t just fixing cars. But I don’t know what happened to Mum, why she didn’t come with us. When I was old enough to ask, Dad told me she was too young, that she couldn’t cope with being a mother. I don’t know what he did to her. Maybe he didn’t do anything. Maybe she couldn’t cope. Wouldn’t it be funny if she was in a place like this, writing in a notebook of her own about all the things she’s done?
‘So your dad did it all for you?’ Sid said then.
I remember how the beer can crumpled under my fingers. ‘Did what?’
‘All of it; built up his business, moved off the Scarbrook Estate, bought a house in Barnsbury. He did it all because he wanted you to have a better life.’
He smiled at me as though it was a good thing, but I wanted to be sick. I’d always blamed myself for my parents breaking up. After all, if I’d arrived five years later, would they have been stronger? Would Mum have coped? But the rest of it? Did he do that for me? That’s all he ever said to me, I want you to have everything, little one. Everything. You can have it all. Whatever you want. Just ask. But he meant take, didn’t he? That’s what he did.
What did he do?
‘You okay?’ Sid asked, and I caught myself, remembering to smile.
‘Just drunk, I think.’
He stared at me and when I looked at him again, he asked me if I was sure. But when I told him I was, he went from unconvinced to frustrated.
‘You always do this, Ro,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Do what?’
‘Talk. You talk, talk, talk, about everything. About books you’re reading and films you want to see and that mad bloke who hangs around outside the police station wearing a bin bag as a cape. But you never say anything. It’s like there’s this line.’ He drew one between us with his finger. ‘You get so far, then you stop.’
‘I do not.’
‘Yes, you do. Like just now; I obviously upset you with what I said about your dad, but when I ask if you’re okay, you lie about being drunk.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Nance does the same thing. She gets to a point and won’t go any further. She won’t let me in.’
I didn’t know what to say to that. I couldn’t find the words quickly enough. I was scrambling around trying to grab them but I couldn’t. It was like I had greasy fingers. So I resorted to stroppiness. ‘My parents just got divorced. It’s hard to talk about it, okay?’
He pointed at me. ‘It’s more than that, Ro. I know it is. There’s something else.’
‘There isn’t!’
‘There is and you don’t have to tell me what it is, but I know there’s something because I do the same thing when I have to talk about my mum.’
‘Don’t talk about her, then.’ I reached for another beer, but there were none left.
‘I think she’s an alcoholic,’ he said in a rush.
I almost fell out of the tree. I mean, I knew, I thought, but I didn’t think he’d tell me.
‘What?’
‘I’ve been finding bottles around the flat.’
‘Where?’
‘At the back of wardrobes. In the cupboard under the kitchen sink.’
‘What sort of bottles?’
‘Wine, at first. Now vodka.’ He shook the can he was holding. I could hear the beer swilling around inside of it. ‘You know that really cheap vodka you get in supermarkets? A litre bottle for a tenner?’
‘How long has she been doing it?’
He shrugged. ‘She’s always liked a drink. Her and my Aunt Bridget used to sit in the kitchen on Friday nights, howling and drinking Southern Comfort and lemonade. But it’s got worse since Dad died. She does it on her own now. I don’t know what to do.’
‘What does Nancy think?’
He looked at me, then licked his lips. ‘I ain’t told her.’
My heart started to throb again. ‘Why not?’
‘I can’t.’ He shook his head. ‘Things are so good between us. Easy. I just need to have that one good thing, you know?’ He frowned. ‘Does that make me a total dick?’
I thought about it for a moment, then looked at him. ‘My cousin Ian had a drinking problem.’ I hesitated. It was another Emily thing, but it was only a tiny piece and he really needed it, so I went on. ‘His wife stuck with him through the whole thing. Through the years of him starting arguments just so that he could leave the house, and nicking money from her purse. But as soon as he was better, he left her.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because he’d moved on. He wanted to put all of those things behind him but he said that he couldn’t because she remembered all of it. She remembered things he couldn’t. So he said that he’d always be an alcoholic to her.’
Sid looked at me for a moment or two, then nodded.
‘So you keep your one good thing, Sid,’ I told him with a smile. ‘But if you need someone to talk to, or climb a tree with, tell me. I have an awful memory.’
A group of schoolgirls passed under the tree then. They started to hold on to one another and laugh wildly as a Jack Russell nipped at their heels. The owner tried to tug him away, but not before one girl screamed – Janet Leigh screamed – and ran away. It was so melodramatic that it made me giggle and when I looked up again, Sid was watching me.
‘Here,’ I said, reaching into the plastic bag. ‘Hold out your hand.’
‘Why?’
‘You know what we need?’ I pulled out a tube of Smarties and shook them at him. He grinned, offering me the palm of his hand. I tipped them out and picked one off the top of the pile. ‘I only eat the orange ones so you can have the res
t.’
He frowned as he watched me push them around with my finger trying to find another orange one. ‘What? Why?’
‘’Cos they’re the odd ones out.’
‘How? They’re all the same.’
I shook my head. ‘No, they’re not. The orange ones aren’t like the rest.’
‘Are they fuck.’
I knew I was about to expose him to some of my crazy, but he needed to know.
‘They are! Here, I’ll show you.’ I picked out a pink one and held it up. ‘The pink ones are the mum. The blue ones are the dad. The purple ones are the kid—’
‘Why are the purple ones the kid?’
‘Because pink and blue make purple.’
‘No, red and blue make purple.’
‘No, Smarties pink and Smarties blue make Smarties purple.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t realise there was actual logic behind this.’
I raised an eyebrow at him. ‘There is.’
‘Okay. So what are the red ones?’
‘The dog.’
His gaze narrowed. ‘Why are the red ones the dog?’
‘Because when I was little we had a dog called Red.’
‘Of course. So what are the brown ones?’
‘The house.’
‘Naturally. And the green ones?’
‘The earth.’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘So are the yellow ones the sun?’
‘Yes! See, I told you.’ I tapped my temple with my finger. ‘Logic.’
‘I’m not sure logic is the right word, Rose.’
‘So that just leaves the orange ones.’ I popped one in my mouth. ‘They don’t belong. Plus, they taste different. They’re orange chocolate.’
‘Lies!’ he said, pointing his beer can at me. ‘That’s a total urban myth.’
‘Yeah. Okay. If by urban myth you mean fact.’
‘No.’ He shook his head, ‘I mean urban myth. That’s why I said urban myth.’
‘I’ll prove it to you. Close your eyes.’
He groaned but closed his eyes anyway and when he did, I picked out a blue one. He giggled when I touched his bottom lip with it, then let me feed it to him. He chewed on it for a second then opened his eyes again, grinning smugly. ‘Told you. Doesn’t taste of orange.’