Guns Of Brixton (22 page)

    'Tell
me something.' 'What?'

    'Why
did you come over just now?' 'To talk to you, of course.'

    'You've
got a nerve,' she said as they stood in the queue, all the other kids' eyes
upon them.

    'I
wanted to speak to you,' said Mark. 'Before you went.' 'Those girls will be
taking the mick forever now,' said Linda. 'Your mates,' he said. 'Bunch of
loonies more like.'

    They
got to the top of the queue and Mark ordered a pair of cones and gave one to
Linda and they walked to a quiet corner of the park. 'I don't usually do this,'
the young woman said. 'What?'

    'Let
blokes pull me.' 'Have I pulled you then?' 'You know what I mean.' 'So, will
you come out with me?' 'I don't think so. My mum and dad are pretty strict.'
'Just for a walk or something. No big deal. Nothing heavy. I understand about
the school work. I wouldn't want to mess up your education.' 'You talk like a
teacher.'

    'Do
I?'

    'How
old are you, Mark?' 'Nineteen.'

    'My
mum would go spare.' 'Why?'

    'You're
too old for me.'

    'How
old are you then?' Although Mark knew.

    'Fifteen.'

    'And
never been kissed.'

    She
coloured again. 'I wouldn't say that.'

    'You
got a bloke?'

    She
shook her head.

    'Good.'

    'Don't
go getting any ideas just because I let you buy me this.' She held up her ice
cream. 'It was just to get away from Brenda. I thought she was going to die
laughing.'

    'Me
too. Is she your best friend?'

    'One
of them. I just moved to school here last term.'

    'You
live local?' It was half question, half statement.

    'Yes.
You?'

    'Streatham.'

    'What
are you doing here?'

    'Just
on a wander. Sat down and saw you.'

    'Don't.'

    'Don't
what?'

    'You
know.'

    'Why
not?'

    'It's
not right. Listen, I've got to go.'

    Mark
saw that the other four girls had stood up, collected their things and were
looking in his and Linda's direction. 'Can I have your phone number?' he asked.
'No.'

    'How
about lunch tomorrow? We could get a burger.' 'No.'

    'Please.'

    'No.'

    'What
if I won't take no for an answer?'

    'You'll
have to.'

    'Will
I?'

    'Yes.'

    'I'm
very persistent.'

    'Don't
be silly.'

    'I'm
not. And I'll be here waiting for you, come rain or shine,' he said as she
walked away. 'Count on it.'

    He
waited to see if she turned, but she didn't. She joined her friends and they
descended on her like a flock of bright birds. He imagined what they were
saying and asking, but she never looked at him as they went back through the
school gates and got lost in the crowd of school uniforms.

    He
was there the next day at the same time, but she didn't show up. He sat in the
sunshine and knew he was being watched, but by whom he wasn't sure.

    He
came the following day and the day after, but there was still no sign of Linda
Pierce.

    The
next day, Friday, May 14th. He'd never forget that day. It was raining buckets,
but still he sat. on the same bench at the same time.

    The
park was empty. No kids, no ice cream man. Just Mark Farrow sitting with the
collar of his jacket turned up against the wet when a lone figure in a blue mac
came out of the school, down the drive, over the road and across the grass
towards him. She was carrying an umbrella and as she got closer he realised it
was the laughing blonde. She stopped in front of him, a big grin on her face.
'She said that you were persistent,' she said.

    'I
am,' he agreed.

    'She
was worried you'd catch a cold. She sent you this.' In her hand was a scrap of
paper. The blonde gave it to Mark and he opened it. 'Tomorrow, twelve, the
Wimpy in the Whitgift,' it read, and was signed 'Linda'.

    'Why
didn't she come herself?' asked Mark, suspecting a gag.

    'She's
a bit shy,' said the blonde. 'But she'll be there. She likes you. She's seen
you waiting every day.'

    'Thanks,'
said Mark. 'Brenda, isn't it?'

    She blushed
at the question. 'Yeah,' she said and turned to go. But stopped and looked
back. 'Gosh,' she said, a faraway look in her eyes. 'I wish a bloke would wait
for me like you are for Linda.'

    'One
will,' said Mark.

    'You
reckon?'

    'Anyone
who can laugh like you do will never be lonely,' he said.

    'Cor,
but Linda's lucky,' said Brenda, and she walked back to school.

    Mark
held the note for a moment before putting it in his pocket and heading back
towards his car.

    The following
day, Mark was in Croydon an hour early for his meeting with Linda. He parked
his car in the shopping centre garage again and joined the crowds looking for
bargains in the Whitgift. He saw the Wimpy bar on the mezzanine and spent the
next fifty minutes in a couple of book and record shops. He didn't buy
anything. He was. too preoccupied with the thought of meeting Linda Pierce.
John and Chas had asked where he was going and where he'd been every lunchtime
that week, but he just smiled and kept schtum.
'Cherchez la femme,'
John
had said, and Mark hadn't disagreed.

    'Got
a bird?' asked Chas, never one to beat about the bush.

    'Leave
him,' said Hazel, ruffling his hair. 'You're only young once. Let him have his
fun.'

    'But
no bun in the oven,' said Jenner.

    'I
said leave him,' said Hazel, and even tough John Jenner knew it was best to do
what she said.

    At
quarter to twelve, Mark entered the steamy cafe that smelled of meat grilling,
bought a coffee and sat at a table by the window. But he couldn't drink it. He
just stirred the dun-coloured liquid, a hollow spot growing in his stomach as
he convinced himself she wouldn't show, and had just sent the note to get rid
of him. The place was just starting to fill with the lunchtime crowd and Mark
watched the pedestrians walking by outside. Then he saw her and he had to take
a sudden breath. She was wearing jeans and a sweater and carrying a small
leather handbag, and he thought he'd never seen anyone look more wonderful in
his whole life. She walked past the window where he was sitting and through the
door, stopped and looked around. He couldn't help smiling as he raised his hand

    to
attract
her attention, and she smiled back when she saw him and walked
over. He knew then that it was love and that he'd never forget the moment if he
lived forever.

    'Hello,'
he said and stood up.

    'Hello,'
she said back, and they just stood looking at each other until Mark said, 'What
do you want? To drink I mean.' Suddenly he wasn't so self assured as he normally
was around women.

    'A
milkshake, please,' she said. 'Chocolate.'

    She
sat, and he went to the counter and ordered the shake and when he took it back
it wasn't the only thing shaking.

    He
put her drink on the table and sat opposite. 'I wondered if you'd come,' he
said to break the silence.

    'I
wouldn't have sent the note if I wasn't.'

    'I
thought maybe your friends were having a laugh. You know, sending me on a wild
goose chase.'

    'They
wouldn't dare. Anyway, they've been talking about nothing else all week.'

    Mark
looked out of the window. 'Do you think they might come and see?' he asked.

    'I
told them not to. But that Brenda…'

    'She
seems all right.'

    'She
fancies you.'

    'What
about you?'

    Linda
blushed. 'I don't know. But when I saw you sitting there all alone in the
rain…'

    'I
told you I'd be there, come rain or shine.'

    'I
know.'

    'Ray
Charles,' said Mark.

    'Who?'

    He
smiled again. 'Brother Ray.'

    She
shook her head in a bewildered fashion.

    'You
don't know who Ray Charles is?' he asked.

    She
shook her head once more.

    'I'll
play it for you one day. You'll like it…' he hesitated. 'At least I hope you
will.'

    'I'm
sure I will if you do.'

    He
felt ten feet tall at that. 'Thanks for the vote of confidence.'

    'Actually,
I didn't know if I should come.'

    'Why
not?'

    'Family
reasons. You know…' She didn't finish her sentence. 'My mum. She's not been
well the last few years.'

    Mark
could easily guess why. It's not every woman's husband who gets life for
killing a policeman.

    'Does
your mum know you're meeting me?'

    'God
no.' She put her hand over her mouth. 'Sorry. I didn't mean…'

    'That's
OK. So where are you supposed to be?'

    'Meeting
the girls for window shopping. I hate lying to Mum, but…' Once again she didn't
finish.

    'I
didn't mean to cause you problems,' he said.

    'It's
not you. Any boy would be the same.'

    'Thanks,'
he said, but he grinned to show he didn't mean it.

    'Sorry.'
Then she saw his face. 'Are you teasing me?' she asked.

    He
couldn't think of anything he'd rather do right then. 'Yes,' he said.

    'You
are terrible.'

    'No
I'm not. So what do you want to do? Now, I mean.'

    'Go window
shopping like I said I was going to.' She stopped herself again. 'Sorry. Boys
don't like window shopping, do they?'

    'You
might be surprised. I don't mind what we do. Just as long as I'm with you.'

    She
gave him a look that could have meant anything. 'Fine,' she said. 'But I hope
you've got comfortable shoes on.'

    They
finished their drinks and left the restaurant and spent the next few hours
wandering through Croydon, from the Mall to the market. By three they were both
exhausted and Mark suggested a drink.

    'Do I
look eighteen today?' asked Linda. 'We've been thrown out of most of the pubs
round here for being underage.' 'You bad girls.'

    'We
have our moments.'

    'I
bet you do, especially Brenda, eh?'

    She
frowned. 'Do you like her?'

    'Why
not?' Then he saw her look. 'I don't fancy her,' he said, 'if that's what you
mean. But she seems like good company. Has she got a boyfriend?'

    'One
a week, our Bren,' said Linda.

    They
went into the Market Tavern and Linda sat in a quiet corner away from the staff
and asked for an orange juice with ice. Mark went to the bar and ordered it,
plus a pint of lager for himself. The place was buzzing and Buck's Fizz were
loud on the jukebox.

    'What
are you doing later?' Mark asked casually when they were sitting comfortably.

    'Revision,'
she said.

    'OK.'

    'You
don't mind?'