Going Out
Page 19
‘Did they get the van?’ Luke asks.
‘Yeah,’ Chantel says. ‘They got a VW Camper. They’re driving it back here after they finish at Homebase.’
‘Cool,’ says Luke.
‘You’re all a load of nutters,’ Leanne says, shaking her head.
‘Why?’ says David. ‘We’re only going to Wales.’
‘What about the floods?’ she asks.
‘We’ll manage,’ Luke says. ‘We’ll have to.’
‘They’re telling people not to travel, though,’ she says.
‘Except in emergencies,’ Chantel points out.
‘And?’ says Leanne.
‘This is an emergency,’ Luke says. ‘This is pretty much a matter of life and death.’
Chapter 30
Charlotte’s been singing the Scooby Doo song for the past half an hour as if she still thinks it’s funny. Julie’s trying to remember everything she’s been told about the indicators, the headlights and the soft (‘you really have to stamp on them but they do work’) brakes. Still, she hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet, and every time she wants to turn a corner, she puts the windscreen wipers on. Whenever she wants to stop, she has to think about it a few seconds in advance. She keeps thinking of those anti-speeding adverts that illustrate, with an image of a kid being run over, how stopping distances change depending on how fast you’re going. Julie wonders if you could ever get this bloody van to stop.
‘I’m not sure this is safe,’ she says.
‘It’s probably just a case of getting used to it,’ Charlotte says.
‘You’re sure it’s not dodgy?’
‘Yeah. That couple were totally genuine.’
Julie thinks about the two people who sold them the van. The woman, pale and thin, had been holding a baby and a tea-towel. The guy had about three days’ stubble, a beer gut, and a mobile phone clipped to his belt. He’d said that if they didn’t take the van now, he’d have to sell it to a lady from Maldon who said she’d be back for it the following day, when she could get cash out of the bank.
‘How do you know they were genuine?’ Julie asks.
‘Mark used to do up cars, didn’t he? We were always out buying wrecks. You sort of get a nose for this kind of thing.’
‘What, for wrecks?’
‘No, you dickhead, for genuine people.’
‘Do you think Chantel will like it?’
‘Huh?’
‘Well, it is hers, strictly.’
‘Yeah, she’ll love it. Well, she will if she likes Scooby Doo.’
‘Are you sure the Mystery Machine was orange? I don’t think it was.’
Charlotte thinks for a minute. ‘Maybe it was blue and orange.’
Everything’s been fun today: the Going Out Committee meeting, then hanging out with Chantel, now this weird, surreal shopping trip with Charlotte. They almost got chucked out of Homebase for laughing so much, and for trying to do wheelies with the un-steerable trolley, and for generally being loud about space-suits and rubber gloves and hoses. Now it’s dark and it’s raining and Julie suddenly gets a stabbing feeling of loneliness and nostalgia, like she’s desperate to go home but she doesn’t know where that is any more. Something’s still bothering her.
‘What’s this Wei guy actually like?’ Julie asks Charlotte.
Charlotte shrugs. ‘Really nice. He’s a friend of Jemima’s husband.’
‘Whose husband?’
‘Jemima . . . This hippy friend of mine. She’s a good laugh, actually. I met her on that yoga retreat I told you about.’
Julie laughs. ‘I still can’t imagine you on a yoga retreat.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s the word retreat.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, I don’t know, retreat implies going backwards. I’ve never been able to imagine you like that. You know, needing to retreat.’
‘Huh?’
Julie can feel her brain starting to do the logic thing it always does: connections and equations fireworking around her head, turning the world into maths. Still, what she’s thinking does add up.
‘Weakness,’ she says. ‘All the New Age stuff. It’s all about weakness, isn’t it? Retreats, victims – of abuse, or pollution or chemicals or whatever – dependency. And you know the way those Crystal Ball types act like they’d die if they inhaled the smoke of one cigarette or got within brainwave distance of a mobile phone or a microwave. And all those words like “wellness”. Why can’t they just say health or something? The whole thing is just too bloody gentle, like the people who are into it are just too delicate to be able to handle anything else.’
Charlotte laughs. ‘Yeah, well, that’s part of it,’ she says. ‘But you can do something like yoga and not be like that. To be honest, that’s how me and Jemima gelled, really. Some of the people on the retreat were total wank-brains and we used to go off for sneaky fags together to get away from them. So, how did you get so worked up about the New Age thing anyway?’
‘I don’t know, really,’ Julie says, indicating and turning right towards the High Street.
‘You’re usually Miss I-Don’t-Have-An-Opinion.’
‘I know. I don’t usually say what I think.’
‘That doesn’t answer the question about what got you all worked up about New Age stuff,’ Charlotte says, rolling a cigarette on her knee.
‘I’m just worried about Luke. I don’t want to put him in the hands of some freak.’ One of the gears jams. There’s a horrible tearing sound. ‘Jesus,’ says Julie. ‘This is so hard to drive.’
‘Just chill, babe. It’ll be OK.’
The van rights itself again, and Julie hopes the gear thing was a one-off. ‘So this woman Jemima. She’s all right, then?’
‘Yeah, she’s great. Really down to earth about the whole thing. Definitely not a freak.’
‘And you’re going to India together?’
‘Yep. In fact, I’m going to stay with her and her husband in Wales until it’s time to go. So I won’t be coming back with you.’
‘Oh, OK. That’s cool.’ Julie remembers which side the indicators are on and signals left. It feels weird being this high up, looking down on the tops of cars rather than straight in the back of them. ‘So is Wei into Ayurveda as well?
‘Nope. He’s a Taoist.’
‘A what?’
‘A Taoist. Tao. It’s a Chinese thing.’
It sounds to Julie like these people just go to the local takeaway to get their religions. All of this is still sounding too Crystal Ball for her liking. The trouble with all those people is they’re too busy fucking around with alfalfa sprouts and carrot juice and weird allergies and phobias that they wouldn’t know a real illness if it came up and killed them. At least Julie admits – even if only to herself – that she’s afraid. But however scary the world is, Julie knows the answer isn’t carrot juice. The one time she went into Crystal Ball recently, she was asked to leave when her mobile phone rang. She’d gone in there to see if there was a book about getting over fear – she’d gone through a phase of thinking maybe she should try to face some of her problems. Then her stupid phone had rung – it was Luke, needing her; he’s the only reason she even has the phone at all – and the manager accused her of bringing harmful vibes into the shop and asked her to leave.
‘Anyway, Wei isn’t a freak,’ Charlotte says, looking at Julie. ‘He’s the real deal.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, he actually is Chinese for a start.’
‘And?’
‘Well, a lot of these people who get into Tao or Zen or Buddhism aren’t the real deal, are they? They’re just guys with beards from Surrey who want to expand their minds and stuff. It’s sweet but you wouldn’t trust them. I heard about some guy who set himself up as a Chinese herbalist basically because he’d read a book on it and he wanted to set up his own business because he’d had some kind of breakdown and had to leave work for, like, ever . . .’
‘It’s because they’re too fucked up to hold down an actual job,’ Charlotte says.
Julie laughs. ‘I thought you’d become one of them.’
‘Come on, babe. I’m just into yoga. Get worried when I stop smoking. Anyway, this guy, the one who had to leave his job, he almost killed someone with Chinese herbs. He misread one of his books – either that, or the Chinese had been mistranslated – and he totally fucked up.’
‘God. This isn’t exactly making me feel better. So what makes Wei different?’
‘He’s totally . . . I dunno. He’s just . . . The real deal, like I said.’
‘Hang on – I thought you hadn’t met him?’
‘I don’t actually know him; that’s what I said. I did meet him for a couple of minutes once.’
‘And?’
‘It was like someone had switched the light on and I hadn’t even realised it was dark. Honestly, Jules, I wouldn’t have put him and Luke in touch if I hadn’t thought he’d actually be able to make a difference. He really is something else.’
‘How does your friend know him?’
‘Her husband Walter’s editing a book called something like Motorway Meditation, or Concrete Karma or something. It’s all about how you can use New Age thinking to ease away the stresses of modern living. Wei is contributing a chapter. That was how I got to hear about him in the first place.’
‘Is he a writer, then?’ Julie asks.
‘No, I don’t think so. He’s more known for his lectures. Walter approached him to do the book, and I think he said no originally, because it was too commercial. Then Walter promised he’d donate a load of the profits to Free Tibet or something and Wei was in. They flew him over do to it. It’s pretty amazing that Luke can see him. Wei’s pretty famous, you know.’
‘Flew him over?’ says Julie. ‘What, from China?’
‘No, he got chucked out of China. From America.’
‘Oh. Well I suppose that sounds better than if he was just some beardy-weirdy English fraud.’
‘You really hate New Agers, don’t you?’
‘Yep.’
‘Why?’
‘You never knew my mum, did you?’
‘No. She left, didn’t she?’
‘Yeah. She got into New Age stuff in a big way, although it wasn’t called New Age then, it was just kind of, I don’t know, hippy, or something. I got so sick of mung beans and sunflower seeds and chick peas and having to eat coriander with everything . . .’
‘I like coriander.’
‘I don’t. The smell of it makes me want to gag.’
‘You’re really pissed off with your mum, aren’t you?’ Charlotte says.
Julie sighs. ‘Oh, I don’t really want to go into it.’
‘You don’t want to channel your anger or anything?’
Julie laughs. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I’m really going on about this. I’ll stop now.’
‘Don’t worry, babe. It’s cool.’
‘So, tell me how you got into Ayurveda, then.’
‘Not if you start accusing me of being New Age.’
‘I won’t. I know you’re not like that.’
‘OK, look, I don’t think I ever told you this – but I was really caning it after I left Windy Close, too much coke and booze and even a little bit of smack . . .’
‘Charlotte!’
‘I know . . . Anyway, I needed to find something else, or die, basically.’
‘God. What did you do?’
‘I called the Samaritans.’
‘Because of the drugs?’
‘Actually, no. Well, kind of. I thought my house was being invaded by flies.’
Julie can’t help laughing. ‘Flies?’
‘Yeah. The lady said I was stressed out, and suggested I learn meditation.’
‘I thought they weren’t supposed to suggest things.’
‘I don’t think you can go wrong with meditation, Jules.’ Charlotte smiles. ‘So anyway, the flies incident was the last straw and I knew I was on the verge of flipping out completely, so I went along to some meditation class in the Adult Education centre and then they had yoga afterwards, so I stayed for that – mainly because I was feeling weird after the meditation and couldn’t move and also because the teacher looked really horny. Anyway, a couple of sessions later, I was starting to feel better. I asked the teacher if it would help to change my diet as well – I don’t know why, really, it was just something to say, because I knew I was going to be told to give up booze, caffeine, fags, chocolate and chemicals, just like in any fucking diet, but this guy just looked me up and down, and said, “Try this for a week: eat porridge for breakfast; rice-pudding for lunch; rice and butter for dinner; and a selection of sweet fruits and honey afterwards – and don’t watch TV while you eat.” I thought he was raving, but it sounded quite nice, so I tried it. After a few weeks, I felt so much better and I asked him what exactly I’d been doing and he explained the basics of Ayurveda to me. Then I went on the retreat, met Jemima and she was the one who told me about this thing in India. You can learn for free but in return you also have to pass on what you teach. It’s cool.’
‘You really have turned into a hippy,’ Julie says, shaking her head.
‘Cool, isn’t it? The new me is definitely better than the old one.’
By three in the morning, the space-suit is almost made.
‘I can’t believe we’ve actually done this,’ Charlotte says.
‘You haven’t done anything!’ Chantel says. ‘You’ve just sat there smoking roll-ups all night.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Charlotte says. ‘I’ve been supervising.’
David’s insulating the boots with Duct tape and silver foil. ‘Sorted,’ he mutters.
‘When are we going to see this van, then?’ Leanne asks.
Julie and Charlotte parked it on the industrial estate so as not to arouse suspicions in Windy Close. Since they got to Luke’s, Julie’s been studying a map and Charlotte’s been sitting in the corner of Luke’s room making various impractical suggestions about the space-suit. Leanne’s been quietly stitching all the bits she’s been told to stitch, and it’s been hard to tell whether she’s in a mood or not. Chantel and David have done most of the actual work, while Luke’s become more and more excited about actually leaving the house.
‘You can all come and see it after this, if you want,’ Charlotte says.
‘Luke could test out his space-suit,’ Chantel suggests.
‘No,’ says Julie. ‘Jean’ll know. We can’t risk Luke leaving until tomorrow.’
‘So what’s the plan?’ Chantel asks. ‘How are we going to get away tomorrow?’
Julie looks up from the map. ‘We’ve still got to work all that out,’ she says. ‘We should do it now. It shouldn’t be too hard, though, because Jean’s going to bingo with Dawn and Michelle tomorrow night, so we can slip out while they’re gone.’
‘Are you going to leave a note or anything?’ Charlotte asks.
Luke looks unhappy suddenly. ‘I really don’t know,’ he says. ‘Mum always said . . . Oh, it doesn’t matter.’
‘She always said what?’ says Chantel.
‘She always said she’d kill herself if I went out.’
‘What? Fucking hell, that’s insane,’ Charlotte says. ‘That’s total emotional fucking blackmail.’
‘It was ages ago,’ Luke says. ‘She did it for my own good . . .’
‘I can’t see how that would ever be for your own good,’ Charlotte interrupts.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘You weren’t there.’
‘You never told me this,’ Julie says, suddenly, to Luke.
‘It was before you moved here. It was because I kept trying to, I don’t know, escape. I was about seven or eight or something and I was always coming up with plans to get out – at that age I didn’t really understand death, and I ther
efore didn’t care if I died, I just wanted to go out into the world and not stay inside any more.’
‘Well, that’s pretty understandable,’ Charlotte says.
‘Your mum must have been really worried,’ Chantel says.
‘She was,’ says Luke. ‘That’s why she did it.’
Charlotte looks like she might say something else, then doesn’t.
‘Bit fucking brutal, though,’ David says, wrapping a final bit of Duct tape around one of the wellies.
‘Yes, but I needed a shock. I was going to kill myself.’
‘I guess she thought of the only thing you cared about more than yourself,’ Chantel says.
‘Exactly,’ says Luke. ‘I think she was brave, to be honest.’
‘Where was your old man?’ asks David.
‘Yorkshire. He worked up there.’
‘Does he still work there?’ Chantel asks.
Luke shrugs. ‘I don’t know. He used to come home at weekends but then he just stopped coming back.’
Everyone’s quiet for a few minutes. No one seems to know what to say.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Luke says eventually.
‘Can I say something?’ David asks.
‘Sure,’ says Charlotte. ‘What?’
‘This plan, right? Tomorrow night Luke’s mum’s at bingo, yeah? So Luke puts on the space-suit and we leave. That’s it.’
‘Very inspired,’ says Chantel.
‘Thanks,’ says David, smiling at her.