The Secret Intensity of Everyday Life (24 page)

‘What’s this? Something in my way.’

Sit still, head down. Chloe thinks she’s funny. Go somewhere else. On a train with Mum going to Fishguard.

‘It’s a pile of old clothes.’

‘It’s Alice.’

Victoria isn’t part of the game, she doesn’t get it. I get it, I’m part of the game. Couldn’t play it without me.

‘Oh, Victoria, you utter retard.’ Chloe never shouts. She just makes her voice sound like she’s laughing. She’ll be doing her big blue eyes thing where she stares like she can’t believe what you just said. ‘Everyone knows Alice ran away to join a circus.’

No, please, not the circus one. Now they’re all giggling which makes her worse. Lie down on Mum’s lap. Maybe we’ll see the baby seals this year.

‘Is this a circus, Victoria? Are there elephants here?’

‘You’re nuts, Chloe.’ Victoria doesn’t get it. But Chloe doesn’t do it to Victoria, I wish she would, that’s mean to Victoria, but why does it always have to be me?

‘Anyway it can’t be Alice. It doesn’t speak.’

If I had a knife I’d stick it in her face. In her mouth. I’d stab a knife in her mouth, right in deep.

‘Say something, Alice.’

‘There’s nothing there, Victoria.’

Ready to go. Chloe wants me to bump into her so she can go on with her game. I should bang her down and stamp on her head except I won’t.
Just run, Alice
.

‘Can you feel something, Emma? A sort of pushy something?’

‘Must be a puff of wind.’

‘A poof of wind. A gay fart.’

Go round the other way while they’re laughing. Chloe with that did-I-say-anything? look she puts on when she gets a result. Out of here any second now, home soon or is Granny coming to get me? Don’t look don’t listen just run.

Outside is safe there’s everyone standing about and cars rolling up with mothers calling out of car windows and even if Chloe and Emma go on with their game I can’t hear them. Outside I can move away always a little further away. Outside is okay even if it’s cold, even if it’s raining. Inside is where you have to not look and not hear and go somewhere else in your head.

I’m on a train with Mum. We like trains. We sit side by side not facing and sometimes I lie down on her if I’m sleepy my head on her lap and she strokes my hair. She says maybe we’ll see the baby seals this year if we go very quietly along the cliff path. But the train is the best because you don’t have to do anything at all but something is happening. It’s just you and Mum being together and nothing else to think about and no one gets bored or says God look at the time. The time just rolls along in this beautiful empty way so that you’d almost think it could go on for ever.

‘No one come for you yet, Alice.’

‘No, Mrs Kilmartin, but I don’t mind.’

That’s what I’m good at, not minding, because if I started minding I’d die or maybe kill someone. Nothing matters really things just happen and the trick is not to mind. That way they lose because they want you to be unhappy but if you don’t mind you’re never unhappy you’re just nothing. Which is fine.

Everyone mostly gone now. Granny not usually so late. Even Will Guest has gone and his mother’s always the last because she’s always on the phone, even when she opens the car door for Will to get in she’s on the phone. Chloe and Emma long gone. But tomorrow it all starts again.

‘Alice? What are you doing here still?’

Oh God not Mr Strachan.

‘My granny’s picking me up, sir. She must have got late.’

‘Do you have a phone number for her? I think I should make sure everything’s all right.’

He has such funny hair Mr Strachan like it’s trying to get away from him. He presses the keys on his phone slowly like he’s not sure which is which. He’s wearing a red tie. That’s supposed to mean something isn’t it?

‘No answer. We’d better call your mother, don’t you think?’

‘Oh no sir. You don’t have to do that. I’m fine waiting.’

Don’t call Mum it’ll make her think she’s done something wrong and she hasn’t.

‘Just in case there’s a problem with your granny.’

He makes the call but when it’s ringing he hands over the phone which is really unusual so no one else has said anything before her.

‘Hello Mum it’s me and I’m fine, sorry to bother you. Mr Strachan said I should call you as Granny’s late.’

‘Isn’t she there yet, darling? My God, she is late! Have you tried calling her?’

‘Mr Strachan did and there’s no answer. But I don’t mind waiting at all.’

‘Oh God, oh God. I’ll come as quick as I can. Let me have a word with Mr Strachan, darling.’

Now Mr Strachan’s saying no problem, not to worry, no trouble at all, I’ve got a heap of essays to mark, and he’s talking in an ordinary voice just like it’s no big deal and I could kiss him. All I want is Mum not to be worried not to feel she’s done anything wrong which she hasn’t ever.

Mum on the phone.

‘Darling, stay at school till I get there. Mr Strachan says he’ll look after you. I’m so sorry, I can’t think what’s happened to Granny. You’d better read a book or something.’

‘I’ll be fine, Mum. I’ll do my French vocab, that way I don’t have to do it later. Honest, no problem. Don’t rush. I’m fine.’

So now we’re in the empty English classroom which is spookily quiet but okay really and Mr Strachan’s doing his marking and I’m doing French vocab. The clock over the white board actually has a tick which I never heard before. Mr Strachan nods his head while he’s reading as if he’s having this silent conversation with the handwriting, but instead of saying something he jumps out his pen and goes scribble scribble. Just like he did on my composition. Funny to think he was doing it to all those other compositions too. You kind of have the feeling yours is the only one the teacher has ever thought about. Maybe he writes the same stuff on everyone’s paper.

‘You okay?’

‘What? Yes.’

‘I bet you’re hungry.’

I look at the clock. It’s almost six. I am hungry. He’s got this secret drawer and out comes can you believe it a packet of custard creams.

‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he says.

Not chocolate but almost better because of the hard dry outside and then suddenly the soft sweet centre all mixed up with it. But Mr Strachan is breaking his biscuits apart, he gets it so one half has no cream and the other half has all the cream.

‘Usually they crumble when you do that,’ he says. ‘It’s harder than it looks.’

It is too. It just crumbles into bits.

‘Now,’ he says, ‘I can lick the raw cream.’

He does it. This is totally amazing. A teacher with a best way of eating biscuits.

‘Go on. Have as many as you want.’

It’s an orgy. This is so amazing. Not just having biscuits, the whole thing. Mr Strachan’s careful fingers pushing in, then a quick snap and he’s got it apart without losing a crumb. That’s an art.

‘You’re having a bad time, aren’t you?’

‘What?’

‘I mean in school.’

Now he’s looking at me and his wavy hair is waving at me.

‘No sir. I’m fine.’

‘You said that four times when you were calling your mum.’

‘Did I?’

‘It’s Chloe Redknapp, isn’t it? She’s a disturbed child. There’ll be problems at home, you can bet your life. Don’t say I said so.’

I do bet my life. Every day I bet my life. Look down, say nothing. Dangerous talk. Chloe Redknapp is a disturbed child. There is a God.

‘Father likes the ladies. Mother likes a drink or two. Something along those lines.’

Heaven. Sing choirs of angels, sing in exultation. I love his red tie.

‘So little miss blue-eyes has to take it out on somebody. Which is no excuse, of course. She should be ritually disembowelled.’

What’s that when it’s at home? Like being made to sit on the lavatory till you’re dead? Don’t laugh. Mustn’t laugh. Oh God he’s nodding at me and all that funny hair and Chloe pooing herself to death and who cares anyway?

He’s laughing too but not out loud, sort of shaking.

‘So what are we going to do?’ he says.

‘Oh no, nothing, please, you mustn’t!’

‘Fear of reprisals. Very understandable. But think about it, Alice. If we kill Chloe Redknapp she can’t cause any more trouble ever.’

Unbelievable. I’m in a dream. This is not happening.

‘Sir!’

‘Going too far? Maybe you’re right. But she must be stopped. She’s a menace.’

‘She doesn’t realize. She thinks it’s just a joke.’

‘Oh, Alice. You rotten liar. She wants to make you miserable. You know she does. It’s what turns her on.’

Maybe it’s a dream but let it go on. He can see. He sees. Like magic. Like he’s a wizard. My very own lovely wild-haired wizard. I can say it to him, he knows already. I can say anything to my wizard.

‘I hate her.’ Say it louder. ‘I hate her! She says I’ve run away to a circus. She makes them all pretend I’m not there. I hate her!’

‘Obviously. But we’ve agreed we can’t kill her. So what can we do?’

‘Put a curse on her.’

God knows I’ve tried but it never works.

‘What curse?’

‘So she gets covered with spots all over her face.’

Chloe has perfect skin.

‘Big swollen red spots,’ says Mr Strachan. ‘With fat yellow tops.’

‘And her hair could all fall out.’

‘And her eyebrows.’

Brilliant! No eyebrows would be so freaky.

‘And she could poo in her knickers!’

‘In assembly,’ he says. ‘Runny poo.’

‘Running down her legs!’

Laughing hurts, oh God now hiccups, any time soon I’ll be crying, I love Mr Strachan, he’s my darling wizard who knows everything especially how to be so silly you just laugh till you cry. Stupid to cry it’s not like I’m unhappy or anything but something’s opened up inside and everything’s just falling out.

Mum!

Darling Mum in the classroom doorway looking surprised but she’s got a smile on her face because she can see us laughing. Into her arms and feel her warm and soft and beautiful.

‘Here now, darling. Here now.’

Mr Strachan’s voice all normal and grown-up again.

‘We’ve been talking,’ he says. ‘We’ve not done as much work as we should.’

‘So I see.’ Stroking my hair. Hugging me close. ‘You okay, darling?’

‘I’m fine.’ Now I’m giggling. Did I really say that four times? ‘Let’s go home.’

‘Come on, then. Say thank you to Mr Strachan for looking after you.’

‘Thank you.’

Walking across the empty car park to our car holding Mum’s hand and skipping, hopping, light as a bird. Honestly I could fly, it’s like I’ve been let out of prison, and all that’s happened is a total stranger has turned out to know how it feels to be me.
Just run, Alice.
Oh, I’ll run. I’ll run so fast and so far no one will ever catch me again.

‘You seem to have had fun.’

‘He’s awesome, Mum. I love him.’

28

Laura clears away the children’s supper, half listening to Carrie as she sits on the stairs talking to her best friend Naomi on the phone.

‘I don’t know what I want to do,’ Carrie is saying. ‘You say first. Why does it always have to be me who decides? I said first last time.’

When they got home from school Laura took Carrie upstairs to show her what she had bought. Carrie rubbed at the fabric, twisting her mouth about, unable to lie. ‘You don’t like it.’ ‘It’s a bit, well, grey.’

Handel on the radio. Time for a glass of wine before Henry comes home. Leftover lasagne for supper, sometimes it’s even better reheated the next day, or am I just being lazy?
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
in the living room, steal a few moments in the kitchen armchair, sink into ancient cushions, take the weight off aching feet, drink wine, let the music flow like an unending stream—

The front door bell rings.

‘Jack! Someone at the door!’

Jack likes opening the door to people. It makes him feel he’s the owner of the house. Also Laura’s fingers are covered in food residue.

She sluices her hands under the cold tap and ponders whether or not to run the dishwasher. There isn’t really room for her and Henry’s supper but if she runs it now Henry will have to empty it later when he’s tired, which he hates. On the other hand if she leaves it to run after dinner she’ll have to empty it before breakfast, which she hates.

Jack appears.

‘It’s a man,’ he says.

‘What man?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Oh, honestly, Jack. Can’t you do better than that?’

She dries her hands on the roller-towel behind the door and goes into the hall. There standing on the doorstep before the open front door is Nick Crocker. Behind him a taxi reversing out of the drive.