When I Was Joe (13 page)

On the way back to the changing rooms I remember Claire's note. ‘Ellie, thanks for inviting us for supper on Sunday. It was fun.'

‘It was nice to meet your mum,' says Ellie. ‘You should try and get her to join a running club or
something, you know. She acts like she's too old but she's actually really young.'

‘Yeah, right,' I say, meaning no, absolutely not, never ever. ‘Ellie, is everything OK with Claire? She seemed to be acting a little, umm, strange.'

Ellie considers. ‘As far as I know, she's fine. She never gives much away though. I had to really quiz her to get any information about you. She found moving from primary to secondary school a bit difficult last year, but I think she's settled down now. All her old friends from primary – Lauren, Emily, Ashley – are in your class, aren't they?'

Ashley! I'm meeting her in one hour. I nod, say goodbye and sprint to the changing rooms where I have a very thorough wash and get changed into the jeans and T-shirt that I packed this morning in my school bag. There's just enough time to go home, dump bag and kit and still get to the High Street for 6 pm. I'm more than a little scared of Ashley. It wouldn't do to be late.

At home, Doug's there and – excellent – he and Mum are looking at the local paper and picking out possible jobs. I rush in, say, 'I'm meeting some friends, see you later,' and run out again. I get to the High Street at five to six. And slow down to a walk as I approach Starbucks. I'm feeling a bit shy, as if she knows what I was imagining about her last night.

She's there already, sitting on a sofa, wearing a pale pink top and a denim skirt. She looks about a million times better than she does in uniform – softer, prettier, less make-up. ‘D'you want a coffee?' I ask – I removed twenty quid from Mum's purse this morning – but she shakes her head. ‘Let's go for a walk,' she says. ‘It's too crowded here.'

We wander down the High Street looking in the shop windows – she's quite entertaining when she wants to be – and then she turns down a side road.

‘Where are we going?' I ask.

‘Let's go to the park,' she says. ‘They keep it open until nine in the summer.'

Park? I never even knew there was a park in this town. Although, now I come to think of it, my school is called – duh, Ty – Parkview. But I'm not going there. ‘No,' I say, instantly aware that I sound deranged, ‘I don't want to go to a park.'

‘Why not?'

‘I can't tell you.'

We stand there uncertainly in the street. ‘Come on,' she says. ‘There's nothing to be scared of.'

And she takes me by the hand and leads me through the gates.

It's bigger than our park in London and there are several playgrounds and a wooded bit too. There're
a few groups of hoodies and a clutch of girls drinking vodka down by the swings. Some old people walking dogs as well. It seems safe enough, but I'm very wary as we walk along. Ashley leads me to a bench that overlooks the lake. We're half hidden behind a bush and it's as private as you're going to get.

She sits down and pats the seat next to her. What do I do now? Put my arm around her?

‘So, Joe Andrews,' she says. ‘What next?'

I lean back, hands behind my head. I'm hoping that I look relaxed and sure of myself.

‘It's your call, Ash. You always seem to know what you want.'

‘Good answer,' she says, and she leans over and very, very gently kisses me on the mouth.

Wow! I have to say that that was one of the top experiences of my entire life so far. She tastes amazing. The whole feeling is amazing. My body is sizzling like a portion of
karahi
chicken. Or sausages in a pan. Assuming the chicken and the sausages are feeling the best they've ever felt, not that they can feel. . . She kisses me again.

I struggle to keep Joe's cool. Joe's probably been with hundreds of girls. My arm slips around her shoulders – very naturally done – and before long we're having the kind of deep-throat snog that Arron would boast about.
On and on, again and again. Luckily, I remember everything he said about breathing through your nose, relaxing your jaw, keeping your mind in neutral so you don't get over-excited. . .

My other arm is around her waist and my hand has slipped under the soft folds of her pink top. I can feel her silky skin and smell her cakey smell. . . It's incredible that right up to about twenty-four hours ago I thought this girl was just an annoying menace.

Eventually we surface for air. ‘Wow,' I say, ‘you're pretty direct.'

She laughs: ‘No point hanging about and letting some other effing bitch get her hands on you,'

Oh, nice. But maybe Joe likes girls who talk like that. ‘You'll just have to keep me busy,' I suggest.

She giggles, ‘No problem. Talk to me in Turkish.'

I tell her in a soft, Istanbul-accented whisper that there are cockroaches in the kitchen and I'm worried about a visit from environmental health, and she sighs and says, ‘That sounds so sexy.' I kiss her again and say in English, ‘It's so dirty that I can't tell you what it means.' I wish I could tell Arron how un-gay languages are turning out to be.

I'm curious about her. How come she knows she can get whatever – or whoever – she wants? She's not the most attractive girl in the class – I mean, right now,
I think she's a love goddess – but Emily and Lauren are definitely prettier, and although she looks good now, school uniform doesn't really do it. If Ellie is right and I am catch of the season, then how come Ashley knew I'd go for her?

I touch her nose. ‘What's your secret? How did you know I'd want to go out with you?'

She looks coy. ‘Oh don't worry. I make very sure that I don't get any competition.'

‘Oh yeah?'

‘If I want a guy, I make sure no one else goes near him. Then I make my move first.'

‘Oh yeah? And why me?'

She looks at me for a full minute: ‘Well, first, because you are the fittest guy who has ever walked into that frigging school.'

What can I say?

‘And second, because you are a bloody mystery man. Why did you move here from London? Why are the police asking about you? What are you on full report for? What's
your
secret, Joe?'

What the hell? I'm so shocked that I feel completely repelled, and I pull myself out of her arms and move away to the other end of the bench. ‘What are you talking about?' I manage to say. I sound quite calm but my heart is beating like crazy and my hands have
bunched into fists.

‘Oh, don't worry, only I know about this. I didn't tell anyone else.'

‘What?' Now I begin to wonder what she does know and who she has told. I don't trust her. Is this how people seem to know we are from London?

I grip her shoulders. ‘What are you talking about?' I'm not shaking her, but I'd like to, and she's beginning to look scared. ‘Tell me, or . . . or. . .'

‘My mum's the head-teacher's secretary,' she says sulkily. ‘I know a lot of things about a lot of people.'

Bloody hell. I let her go. This could be a disaster. I'll have to talk to Doug, but if I talk to Doug then it could be the final whistle for life as Joe. And I like life as Joe. Just a few minutes ago it was the best life I'd ever had.

‘Look, Ashley. I don't know exactly what you know but you're going to have to tell me what your mum said. Everything she said. This is very serious. She could lose her job over this.'

She rolls her eyes and says, ‘I don't know why you're making such a fuss. She just said that you'd moved from London and there were special circumstances.'

‘And what else?'

She pouts. ‘And the police were involved and you were on full report and the head didn't really want to take you but had to for some reason, Mum didn't
know why.'

Shit. The mother might as well work for the
Sun
. As the son of a secretary, I feel quite shocked. Mum worked for a firm of solicitors and was very, very strong on confidentiality – she'd never tell me anything.

‘What else?'

‘Oh, just about the full report. Most of the teachers say you're really bright but some think you're cheeky. And Mr Henderson thinks you're a future star.'

‘Oh,' I sit and think. I can't decide what to do. I'm so angry that I feel like I'm going to be sick. And what to tell Ashley?

‘Ashley,' I say, ‘you mustn't tell anyone any of this. You haven't, have you?'

‘No. . .' she says, but she doesn't sound very sure.

‘Do you want to go out with me? Or not?'

‘Yes. . .' she says, but she still doesn't sound very sure.

‘Ok, then I'll do you a deal. You tell your mum she mustn't say anything about me. You don't say anything about me. And when I can explain, then I will.' And that'll be never, I add, but only to myself.

She nods, and there are tears in her eyes. ‘I never meant to upset you, Joe. I didn't know you'd be angry.'

It's not her fault that she has a stupid, unprofessional mother. ‘Don't cry. I'm not angry with you,' I say.
And somehow we're kissing again, and this time it's even better than before, and even more than before, and by the time we untangle ourselves it's getting dark and a bell is ringing to tell us that the park is about to close.

We walk to the High Street and then she says, ‘That's my bus,' and I say I'll see her at school tomorrow. And then I run as fast as I can all the way home because I hate being out in the dark on my own.

I'm just rounding the corner into my street when a man steps out of the shadows and grabs my arm. I lash out wildly, yelling, ‘Get off me,' and then recognise him. It's only Doug. What's he doing scaring me to death like that?

‘What was that about?' I shout at him. ‘I've got enough to worry about without you messing about.'

‘Shush,' he says. 'I wanted to stop you before you get home.'

‘Why?' I look at him, appalled. ‘What's happened to my mum?'

‘Just wait. . .' he says, but I've sprinted away from him and I'm flying towards our front door. I thunder into the hall and crash into the living room. Mum's there crying her eyes out in the arms of Maureen, the makeover lady. I shove Maureen out of the way and throw my arms around my mum. ‘Nicki? Nic? What's happened? Has someone hurt you?'

‘Not me,' she sobs. ‘It's your gran. She's in intensive care. The bastards have attacked her.'

I'm back in that no-emotions zone again, where everything is muffled and distant and you're so desperate to feel something – anything – that you want to bite your own tongue until it bleeds. Mum is crying and furious and raging at Doug, and I'm like a dead robot gutted of its circuit boards.

‘You were meant to keep her safe. You let us down!' Mum screams, and Doug looks incredibly uncomfortable and can't really answer. Eventually Maureen pats Mum on the shoulder and says, ‘Come on now, Nicki, let's put some things in a bag for you and we can get you to the hospital.'

‘We're going to the hospital?' I ask and, despite everything, it's great to think we'll be seeing my aunties again. But no, Maureen shakes her head.

‘I'm going to stay here with you, Ty, for the time
being, and Doug will take your Mum. It's too dangerous for you to go; we don't know who will be watching the hospital.'

I start shivering, suddenly imagining these people, these attackers, lurking in a hospital ward, ready to hurt, one by one, Mum, Louise and Emma. I'm wondering what Gran looks like.

‘What actually happened?' I ask, ‘What did they do to her?'

Doug can't even look me in the eye. ‘We're not quite sure of all the details yet because your gran is still unconscious. She hasn't been able to tell us anything. But – I'm sorry – there was considerable violence involved.'

‘They tortured her,' sobs Mum. ‘They tortured her to get her to tell them where we are. And when she wouldn't tell them, they beat her up and left her for dead.'

‘You can't actually be sure of that,' says Maureen soothingly, but Mum shakes her head and says, ‘I know my own mother.'

‘How did they find her?'

‘Louise went over because she couldn't get through on any phone. If she hadn't. . .' Mum falls silent, and then suddenly runs out of the room. She just about makes it to the loo before she throws up.

Maureen looks after her and I'm left along with Doug.
He says, ‘Try not to worry too much, Ty,'

‘When can I see her? How long will my mum be gone?' As I ask I realise how pointless these questions are.

‘We'll have to see how things go, how she recovers. It's your half-term holiday next week so that gives us more scope to move you around, but obviously our priority is to keep you safe.'

They wait until about midnight to leave. Mum hugs me and says, ‘Take care, my darling.' As I watch her go I wonder if I'll ever see her again. It feels like she's disappearing into the black night forever.

Maureen sleeps in my Mum's room. I lie awake in mine. Eventually I give up trying to sleep and turn on my iPod. I remember my eleventh birthday when Arron and I went swimming, ate cake and ice cream, watched a
Star Wars
DVD. How did we get from there to here? What went so wrong?

In the morning, Maureen's asleep when I leave the house to go training. I write her a note and trudge down the hill. The empty streets spook me a little and I keep looking over my shoulder. It takes twenty minutes to get to school and by then, even a cat crossing the road is enough to freak me out. I walk through the school gate, jittering like I've drunk ten litres of coke.

The gym is my sanctuary. I train harder and faster
than Ellie has asked me to, as if I can do something for Gran by pushing myself to my limits. By the time I'm finished I'm wet with sweat and dizzy with effort. ‘Take your time to cool down,' Ellie would say, but I have no time. I'm going to be late for registration. I run up to the changing room, pulling my shirt off as I go, push the door open and – what the – I'm flying though the air, landing in a heap at Carl's feet.