Cold Light (5 page)

‘What girl?’

‘That girl in the car. White jumper. Saw her take it off. That her boyfriend?’

‘Carl’s not her boyfriend. Just a bloke.’

‘He was kissing her.’

‘Knobhead,’ I said, though I wasn’t surprised. I walked away from him, still talking, muttering under my breath.

‘I’ve got to hang about here in the cold until he’s finished with his jailbait. Don’t know what they expect me to do.’

I’d finished talking before I realised he’d come with me, trotting along just beside. I stopped and turned.

‘Look,’ I said, trying to sound adult and reasonable. ‘You shouldn’t be hanging around watching them. Sneaking about in the bushes. It’s pervy. Carl – that man in the car – he wouldn’t like it. He’d shout at you. You should go home. Aren’t you cold?’

He stopped just behind me. He held out his ball for me to take.

‘I’m not playing with you,’ I said loudly, hoping to scare him away, even though it was a bit tight. ‘Get on home, will you?’

‘Hold it for me a minute. I want to get into my pocket. Share with you. One to yourself, swear to God.’

I sighed, almost groaned, and took the ball off him. He went through all the pockets in his expensive jacket until he found what he was looking for. A pack of ten Embassy. He opened it, only two gone, gave it to me, and took the ball back. I looked at the packet and laughed.

‘You smoke?’

‘Every day. All the time. Whenever I like,’ he said. ‘My dad told the man in the Paki shop not to give me them anymore, but he still does. I’m old enough. I had Christmas money. I can buy whatever I like with it.’

‘You shouldn’t say that,’ I said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Wilson.’

‘Wilson, you shouldn’t say “Paki” – it isn’t nice.’

‘Sorry. Sorry. Why isn’t it nice?’

‘They just don’t like it.’ I didn’t think there was any point explaining it to him. He wouldn’t get it anyway. ‘If they heard you, they might not sell you the fags anymore.’

‘None of them?’ Wilson looked stricken, and I had to take a deep breath to stop myself laughing. It was so cold the air hurt my nose on the way in and reminded me that, actually, I could do with a fag.

‘Where’s your lighter?’ I said. ‘Shall we have one now?’

‘I’ve dropped it,’ Wilson said. He looked crestfallen and I felt bad for reminding him.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said quickly.

‘It was ace. It was my best thing. Had a woman in a costume on it.’

‘What kind of costume?’ I said, thinking about fancy dress and Halloween.

‘For swimming in. When you pressed the button to get the fire to go on, it disappeared and you could see her titties. It was great.’

He looked miserable again. I was ready to believe the lighter really was his best thing.

‘Where did you drop it?’

‘In there. In those trees.’

‘We could go and have a look?’

He shook his head. ‘Pine needles. Old leaves, spiders and things. I’ve already been looking. I’ll get another one though. I will. Whenever I like.’

‘All right then. We’ll use mine,’ I said, getting it out of my pocket.

When we’d finished the fags and Wilson had gone behind a tree to be sick, I handed the packet back to him. I could have taken it. He’d probably forgotten, or would be too scared to ask me for it. But I didn’t.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

He’d got the ball under his arm, his other hand jammed into his pocket. I could see his fingers fumbling through the mat erial, turning the fag packet around and around.

‘It’s Lola,’ I said. Because I’d decided to speak to him like a normal person, I explained it to him, like I always had to when I met someone new.

‘It’s not my real name. I’m called Laura. That’s what it says on my birth certificate. School register. Laura Madeline Webb. With two “b”s – not like the spider. But when I was little I couldn’t say it.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Laura. Lola. My parents thought it was cute. And Lola’s the name of a girl in a song they liked when they were younger. So that’s what everyone calls me. Even teachers, sometimes.’

He was waiting patiently for me to finish, he wasn’t interested at all. I laughed.

‘What? What do you want?’

‘Lola, what’s jailbait mean?’

‘Oh. You shouldn’t say it. I was just in a bad mood. Because of the cold.’

‘What does it mean though? What does it mean?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Lola Webb, what does jailbait mean?’

I didn’t want to be talking to him about sex. There was no way of telling what he already knew and what his parents had left him hazy on. There were some things, I supposed, he’d never need a practical knowledge of and what Chloe and Carl were doing in the car right now was probably one of them.

‘I gave you a fag. I was your best friend! Now you’re ignoring me?’

‘For God’s sake. It means a girl who’s too young to have sex with. Someone younger than sixteen. But pretty, I suppose. Like bait, for fish. She’s too young to have sex with a man without the man getting into trouble, in case he forced her to do it. Or tried to get her drunk or something. But because she’s pretty it makes the man want to have sex with her a lot. Even though he’s too old and he isn’t supposed to. And if anyone found out that he did it he could go to jail. Because he took the bait. So it’s not a nice word, really. You shouldn’t say it.’

Wilson didn’t say anything for a while. We stood next to each other under the trees looking at the white sky and watching our breath on the air. The sun was going down already. It must have been about three.

‘My dad takes me fishing sometimes,’ Wilson said. ‘He gave me a baccy tin and I’ve got to go digging and fill it up with worms. Best worms are black. That means they’ve eaten a lot. Fish like them ones best, eat them up quick.’

‘Yeah?’ I said, looking towards the car. I was too far away to see anything, but they must have been done by then. My feet were so cold they hurt. It was freezing.

‘I’ve been fishing here before,’ Wilson said, and nodded back towards the woods. ‘There’s a pond through there.’

‘I know. You wouldn’t be able to get anything now though,’ I said. ‘It’s all frozen over.’

Wilson nodded. ‘I’ve been from there. Been to see. Do you think the fish are all right under there?’

I shrugged. ‘Probably. They have fish in colder countries than ours. Polar bears eat fish.’

‘I can’t wait until it thaws out,’ Wilson said. ‘Cold water is all right, but when it’s all iced up there’s no fishing, and it’s shit,’ he giggled, ‘it’s well shit.’

‘You could skate on it though,’ I said.

‘Not interested in skating,’ Wilson said, and shook his head. ‘I’m interested in digging up worms and going fishing.’

‘I’ve been out skating on that pond before,’ I said. ‘It’s ace. Sliding along like nobody’s business. Faster than anything. Even if you fall, it doesn’t hurt that much because you carry on sliding. Just so long as you wear your gloves, and the right sort of shoes.’

‘Boring,’ Wilson said, ‘plus, my dad would batter me if he saw me out on the ice. I’ve had serious warnings about it.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘me as well. Everyone’s parents do. There’s a video they show in school. Have you seen it?’

Wilson shook his head. I wondered if he’d even been to school. Missed out on the icy ponds, fireworks and giant hogweed safety videos. Big loss.

‘I’ve been out all the same though,’ I said, ‘because it’s fucking brilliant.’

‘What did your dad say? Did he batter you?’

I shook my head. ‘Nah, course not. If they don’t know, then you can’t catch it, can you?’

‘He’d know,’ Wilson said, and shook his head, ‘my dad always knows. And he’d stop me going fishing. Fishing’s the main thing. And the worms.’

‘Right.’

‘I got a massive one once. A worm about as big as a skateboard.’

‘Right.’

‘Yeah.’ He held out his hands to show me. ‘I dug it out of our garden, this big. Bigger than the fish we got, my dad said.’ But his ball had dropped and was rolling away between his feet, down the gentle incline towards the tatty hedge, and he turned away to get it. I followed him, bending under the branches, and got it before he did.

Wilson was laughing and I was pulling a dead leaf out of my hair when we came out from between the bushes. The first thing I saw was Carl, standing under the burned sign with Chloe. I thought they were looking at the picture of the stoat before I realised they were looking for me. Wilson came up behind me as Carl turned, looking pleased with himself. His hands in his pockets and his elbows were jutting out like handles.

‘This your boyfriend?’ he called. He was sneering at me, lazily, but only for effect. He put his fingers on Chloe’s shoulder, squeezing her there and guiding her over the gravel towards me and Wilson, but his eyes were hazy and kept darting back to the car.

Chloe was twitching. She looked a state – her hair was a mess and she kept patting at it. She was biting at the skin on her lips and rearranging the collar on her jumper to cover the tiny purple marks on her neck.

‘Yeah, he’s my boyfriend, Carl. We’ve been meeting in secret all this time because we knew you couldn’t handle the competition,’ I said, before I could stop myself. And bang goes the lift home, I thought.

Carl looked surprised, and then laughed right at me. A real laugh, open and genuine.

‘Cheeky bitch,’ he said, and laughed again, shaking his head like he didn’t know I could be funny. Thought I was scared of him. Chloe looked at Carl, didn’t like it.

‘You cow!’ she mouthed poisonously. I looked away.

Wilson started to laugh too, and Carl laughed with him for a while, exaggerating and slapping his thigh. It went on until Carl reached over and pushed the ball through Wilson’s arms. It rolled between his feet and through the grass. Wilson chased it but it went into the hedge again before he could grab it. When he bent over to pull it out Carl put his foot in the middle of Wilson’s backside and gently pushed until he toppled over. When he got up his face was red, his hair stuck up in tufts. His nose was running and he was outraged. It did look funny.

I stepped away from Wilson and went to stand nearer to Carl and Chloe. Wilson scowled and rubbed the back of his trousers with his free hand.

‘You and your jailbait, yeah!’ he said. ‘I’ll tell my dad you and your jailbait did this to my hand,’ he said, and held up the hand with the scratch that I thought he hadn’t noticed.

‘Wilson.’ I said it quietly, because Carl wasn’t laughing now, wasn’t doing anything except looking at him with slack, dull eyes.

‘Tell him you and your jailbait made my face bleed. Ripped my new coat. Took my ball. He’ll have you.’

‘Shut up, Wilson,’ I said, not looking at him. I tried to take a step sideways, to get between Carl and him, but Wilson was already coming forward, getting as close to Carl as he could, standing up straight as if he was preparing to fight. Wilson was bigger than Carl – taller, wider – Donald would have called his trainers canoes. But he was soft and slow and he didn’t know what Carl was like.

‘What did you say?’ Carl asked quietly, as if he was genuinely interested. He cupped a hand behind his ear. ‘Didn’t hear you, mate. Speak up a bit. Go on. Don’t be shy.’

‘Tell my dad. Not scared of you. Bullies only pick on people they’re scared of. You’re just jealous. You and the jailbait!’

‘Say that again for me, will you?’

Carl didn’t look angry, he was glittering with calm. He was hard – but relaxed – teeth not even clenched, arms loose at his sides, fingers curled against his palms. He snapped his arm like a whip and clipped Wilson around the side of the head before he could duck. It was the sort of thing his dad probably did to him when he caught him smoking.

He’ll be all right, I thought. It was a hard slap though, and made a noise like Carl had hit wood.

Wilson put his free hand on his head like it was starting to rain. He cried with his mouth open. Spit bubbled between his gappy teeth and snot came out of his nose. It was noisy. He was wailing in his sing-song hooty voice, still going on about his dad and jailbait. It was like it was a foreign word, one he didn’t understand. I don’t think he’d ever heard it before and it was the novelty of it that was making it stick in his mind. That, and because it had something to do with sex. But I could tell Carl couldn’t stand it.

Chloe laughed.

‘You stupid monger,’ she said, hawked, and spat at his shoes. There was blood in the spit from where she’d bitten her lip.

Wilson cried louder and dropped his ball again. He bent over and tried to wipe the thick froth off the toe of his shoe. Carl raised his foot and I thought he was going to kick Wilson in the head. I opened my mouth but I was frozen, and then Carl let it fly and kicked the ball, really belted it. It went right over the hawthorn hedge and disappeared into the bushes and woods behind.

‘Aw, what did you do that for?’ Wilson said. He rubbed his hand clean on his coat then rubbed his face with his hand. He was still ready to smile and forgive us. He was still ready for it to be a joke.