it you?” Mum asked Gemma.
“That’s not the POINT, is it!”
I just kept my mouth shut. Dad ranted on.
“I just don’t understand why you have to be on the phone all the time. Absolute waste of money. Next time, you pay me back.”
“Like I have my own private income,” muttered Gemma.
So Dad marched upstairs, tail between his legs. Gemma sighed expressively and settled down in front of the TV. I couldn’t tell whether she was bothered or not. She’s quite good at cutting out the things she doesn’t want to hear. This didn’t include her mobile, which announced the arrival of another text. She’s all right, really, my sister, but she’s just typically fifteen – into boys, friends, gossip, all the girlie stuff. I tease her sometimes about being such a clone until she loses her rag, but she makes sure we’re never bad friends for too long, as she fancies most of my mates.
I went into the kitchen to get a coffee before work and Mum followed me out, as I thought she would.
“Your father,” she said, shaking her head. “Why does he have to come home and stir it up? I find it difficult enough to manage Gemma as it is.”
“He’ll have forgotten about it by the time he comes downstairs,” I said.
Mum just grumbled. She tends to use me as a sympathetic ear. When my GAP plans fell through she told me she was only too pleased to have me at home for another year, and she meant it. She once said I was her safety valve, whatever that meant. I’m certainly a bit of a go-between in the family Mum moans about Dad, Dad moans about Mum, Gemma moans about both of them, and they both moan about Gemma. Welcome to the Woods family.
Not that any of this was serious. Life in our house was much better than a lot of the families I knew. It was more that I’d outgrown them, which was natural. I was pleased to get to the Red King that night, even though there was a darts match on and we never stopped. So the next day I was shattered – I still wasn’t back to pre-glandular fever fitness levels. Then the pub again in the evening. And so on. And then it was Saturday.
It was slack at Electric Avenue and I did more than my fair share of staring into space. I’d decided more or less not to go to Todmorden. It just seemed too much effort. I thought I’d have an early night instead, gather my strength.
Kevin, the deputy manager, sidled over. He wasn’t much older than me, and because of that, he liked to throw his weight around, in my direction.
“Have you brought out the new Golf Tournament?”
I nodded.
“Got to keep you busy,” he said, only half joking. He was dressed in a flashy suit and his hair was brittle with gel. His eyes darted about the shop and were held by some girl who’d come in and was hunting through the GameBoy games. He nudged me conspiratorially. Kevin was pretty disgusting. He’d relay to the shop floor exactly what he got up to every weekend. Not that any of us wanted to know. When a bloke came into the store and put a proprietorial arm around the girl’s waist, Kevin looked away.
“Not my type,” he said. “No bum.”
I made no comment. I might think things about girls, but I don’t normally say them. Most of the time.
“So,” Kevin carried on. “What are you up to this weekend?”
“My little secret,” I said, trying to sound as careless as possible.
“Come on! Who is she?”
“Girl I met last week coming back from Birmingham,” I lied.
“You’re a fast worker,” Kevin said.
I felt a shit for lying but pleased the lie took effect. And then I thought, what the hell, I might as well make the most of it.
“Yeah, an artist. Lives out in West Yorkshire. I’m going out to her place.” I sounded cool. I liked how I sounded. Of course, I knew this meant I would never go to Todmorden now. But I wasn’t going to go, anyway.
“An artist, eh? So what are you going to do? Model for her? A Life class?” Kevin sniggered.
I laughed as if to dismiss his insinuations but concede nevertheless that there might be something in them. Yeah, all right, I was right down there at his level. But it felt good to impress, even a shit like Kevin. And the lying didn’t bother me. Everybody lies, even when they don’t mean to. Then some punters drifted in and we separated.
Business picked up, and I didn’t have any more time to think, except about what would make good Christmas presents and the new features of the latest Tomb Raider. Before I knew it, it was six o’clock, and Kevin was pulling down the grille at the front of the shop. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel too tired. I waved goodbye to everyone and sauntered to the bus stop.
Waiting for the bus, my mood began to spiral downwards again, perhaps because I was alone. Being with other people lifts me, makes me act OK, even if I don’t feel OK. By myself, reality bites. The reality was that I had nothing to do and it was Saturday night. Even Gemma was out with her mates, and when I got home she’d be prancing around asking me if she should wear her pink top, or the black one, and which trousers. I’d spend the night up in my room or in front of the box with my aged parents. If my luck was really in, Dad would buy in a four-pack of lager. Great.
Lower Fold Farm, Lumbutts, near Todmorden. I’d drive down the M62 to Milnrow, then go on through Walsden. I was pretty sure that Lumbutts was on the moors, a bit further down than Walsden. It would be interesting to see the farm. Not that I would see much in the dark. Stupid idea. Maybe there were some films on Sky. The bus came.
It was weird – for the first time in ages I had some energy. I wanted to go out. I wanted to go into town with my mates, only they were scattered all over England, in different campus bars at different universities. You can’t go clubbing by yourself.
And then I had my brainwave. Stu was still around. He’d failed all his A2s and was retaking them at a local college. I got out my mobile and texted him. My luck was in. He was at home, no plans, but no money either. I texted him back. I told him about a party I knew in Tod, that I had a sort of invite to. He said he was up for it. I said I’d pick him up on my way, as he lived in Rochdale. Sorted. Even if the party was a disaster, we could have a drink or two instead.
Now I’d decided to go to Todmorden, I realised it was what I’d wanted to do all along. Because Kate and Nick were new people, they were different. Everyone was meeting new people now except for me. I wanted to have an adventure too. I wanted to start living. So I got home, reminded Dad he said I could have the car, listened to the lecture about not drinking and driving, changed into some jeans and a sweatshirt, shovelled down the dinner Mum had made, told Gemma the pink top looked better than the black. And I was in the car, stereo playing loud. I was moving, life was moving again. At last. This was more like it.
Because the music was playing so loud I didn’t hear my mobile the first couple of times. I was already driving through Rochdale and it was in between tracks before I heard the ring. I pulled over to answer. It was Stu.
He sounded like death. Apparently he’d just spent the last hour or so throwing up. Either a stomach bug, he said, or something he’d eaten. Either way, he was going to have to cancel on me. I said that it was OK, and wished him better. He said he’d ring in a few days.
So much for my Saturday night.
Then I realised I had two choices. Either I turned the car around and went home, or carried on to Todmorden. Neither appealed. But just then, going back home seemed the worse of the two alternatives. I’d been vegetating all week, and as much as I love my parents, they aren’t exactly stimulating company. Going to Tod was risking the fact Nick and Kate wouldn’t remember me, or would have changed their minds about seeing me. But on the other hand, if it was a party, I could just blend with the crowd. It dawned on me I’d never gone to a party or club by myself before. That made me smile. I teased Gemma often enough about being a pack animal, and here