Sonia took a sip of wine, then a large gulp. ‘Something’s wrong,’ she said. ‘You’ll have been caught on a CCTV camera or something.’
‘It was the right thing to do,’ I said.
‘There are cameras everywhere. Remember – surveillance society?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I thought I needed to get it scrubbed down. At least I’ve done that.’
‘We made a plan,’ said Sonia. ‘I haven’t said this before but I’m saying it now. You brought me into this. I helped you. We made a plan. You can’t just wake up in the night, have a bright idea, change everything and only tell me about it after.’
‘The plan was wrong.’
‘It wasn’t. Or if it was, it wasn’t as wrong as undoing it and making another wrong one. If they’d found the car, they’d have assumed he’d left the country. What will they think now?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said unhappily. ‘It doesn’t matter. They probably won’t think anything. Does anyone really care, apart from us?’ And then I remembered my bag arriving in the post and the adrenalin of terror sloshed through me again. ‘Hardly anyone.’
Before
‘Miss Graham! Miss Graham! I did it!’
I looked at the slip of paper and then at her. She had a grin splitting her face in half and two fat tears rolling down her cheeks. I put my arms around her and kissed her. ‘That’s fantastic, Maud,’ I said. ‘And well deserved.’
‘I can’t believe it. I’m so happy. I’m so happy.’ And she was off, running across the grass to a group of girls who were hugging each other, squealing and taking photographs with their mobiles. I looked around me at all the young people walking into the school with their faces set in tense apprehension, or coming out with their envelopes in their hands, my ex-students, in groups or alone.
I hate results days at school. However many get the grades they need, there are always some whose hopes are dashed. The worst is collecting GCSEs – that would be next week – when large groups of students, who haven’t worked, whom you’ve known from their first day at the school and will probably leave with few qualifications, gather for this ritual public humiliation. But even today, collecting A levels, felt brutal enough. Looking around the scattered crowds, I could tell immediately which ones had done badly: not just Amy, weeping onto the shoulder of her best friend, but Steven Lowe, laughing and shrugging, pretending he didn’t care and fooling no one, a shy young man called Rob, who looked as if he had been punched in the stomach and was having trouble standing upright, Lorrie and Frank, sucking desperately at cigarettes.
Along with nine other teachers, I had been there since half past eight and it was now ten o’clock. Generally, the day got worse before it ended: the students who expected to do well usually turned up first thing. Others came later, dragging their heels, acting indifference, putting off the moment of bitter and anticipated truth.
Then I saw a figure I knew, slouching nonchalantly along with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a cigarette hanging from his lower lip. Joakim spotted me and lifted his hand but didn’t stop and I watched him as he sauntered towards the table where his envelope was lying. His neck and shoulders were stiff, but then I watched them relax. That was the nearest he got to expressing relief or gladness. He rolled the piece of paper loosely into a hollow tube, stopped for a few seconds to talk to a mate, let a girl with blonde pigtails cover him with lipstick kisses, shook the hand of Joe Robbins, the school head, then turned to go.
‘OK?’ I said to him, as he passed.
‘All right.’ A smile quivered on his mouth. He handed the printout to me to read.
‘Terrific,’ I said, putting my hand on his arm and seeing his cheeks glow with pleasure. ‘You should be very proud of yourself.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Go and celebrate,’ I said, as a boy hollered at him to join them. ‘I’ll see you this evening.’
‘You will?’
‘Our dry run – at the barbecue. You’re the one who arranged it.’
‘Oh, that.’
‘You’ll be there?’
‘Sure. I’d be going to the party anyway. It’s a celebrate-or-drown-your-sorrows thing. Our gig can just be a little break in the drinking.’
By the time we started to play, it was threatening rain. A hot wind shook fat drops from the sky. There must have been at least 150 young people there, most of whom were already drunk when they arrived – and if they weren’t, they quickly proceeded to become so, swilling back cans of beer, smoking joints and eating burned sausages or grey burgers. I saw a boy I had taught several years ago vomit into the shrubbery, groaning and weeping as he did so. Nobody really took much notice of our music, except to cheer and cat-call Joakim. Many of them knew Sonia and me, at least by sight, and there was a comical double-take when they saw us standing there. But they quickly forgot about us and all of the old hierarchies. The ex-school captain took a year-twelve girl behind the shed where he seemed to believe they were invisible. The leader of the school council threw a stone at the cat. The band played on.
‘Did you hear about Joakim’s results?’ said Guy in the break, a look of barely restrained smugness on his face. ‘Did he tell you?’
‘I know. Fantastic.’
‘He’s a star,’ added Sonia.
‘It’s a relief as much as anything.’
Hayden had taken himself off to a group of teenagers, including Joakim, who were gathered at the end of the garden. Ripples of their laughter drifted over to where we stood. They were passing round a thick joint and I saw Guy glance at them, then away.
‘He’s going to Edinburgh, isn’t he?’ I asked, to distract him.
‘Yes. Less than six weeks. His mother will miss him.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’
‘Won’t you miss him?’
‘It’s different for a father,’ said Guy. I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it again. ‘Anyway, we’ve been squabbling so much lately it’ll be good for us both to get a bit of distance. He’s itching to leave home. I said,’ he raised his voice for his son and Hayden, who were making their way down the garden towards us, ‘that you’re itching to leave home.’
‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly.’ Joakim cast a pleading look at Hayden.
‘I don’t blame you,’ said Guy. ‘Maybe I’ve been a bit hard on you lately.’
‘Nah.’ Joakim shuffled his feet.
‘I was saying to Bonnie and Sonia that your mother will miss you. But so will I.’
‘Oh, but you don’t need to say goodbye just yet,’ said Hayden, buoyantly.
‘Six weeks.’
‘Six weeks, six months,’ said Hayden. ‘Who knows in this crazy old world?’
‘What?’
‘It’s about Edinburgh, Dad.’
‘What about Edinburgh?’
‘I’ve been thinking I might take a gap year after all.’
‘What for?’
‘I think we should play the next set now,’ Amos interrupted.
Guy ignored him. ‘When was this decided?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it for ages.’
‘But you know what you want to do. Go to university.’
‘What about the university of life?’ This was Hayden.
‘Is this your doing?’ said Guy.
‘We’ve talked about it,’ said Hayden, with a slow smile, as if he was enjoying the effect this was having on Guy.
‘Have you even asked Edinburgh if they’ll defer your entry?’ asked Sonia.
‘I’ve only just decided,’ said Joakim.
‘Decided?’ said Guy, his voice rising.
‘You should talk about this afterwards,’ I said. ‘Privately.’
‘Maybe I’ll make it and not have to go anywhere,’ said Joakim, talking to his father over me. ‘I don’t know anything. I’m starting from zero.’
‘Make it?’ Guy’s voice was a croak. ‘What do you mean,
make it
?’
‘Hayden said he’ll help me.’
Hayden lifted his hands modestly. ‘I’ll do what I can. Joakim has definite promise.’
‘You stay out of this,’ said Guy. ‘Don’t do this, Jo. Please. Don’t just throw everything away.’
‘It’s my life,’ said Joakim.
‘Is that what you want? To be some ageing failure sleeping on other people’s floors and sponging off friends of friends, waiting to
make it
?’
‘Enough,’ said Sonia. ‘Now we’re going to play.’
‘I don’t feel like it,’ muttered Joakim.
I leaned towards him. ‘You want to make it as a musician, Joakim? The first thing you have to do is learn a bit of professionalism. Play now, we’ll talk later.’
‘I’m ready.’ Hayden picked up his guitar.
‘You’ve got a lot to answer for,’ Guy said.
‘I’ve nothing to answer for.’ The smile disappeared. Hayden’s face became hard with dislike. ‘Because I’m free. That’s what you can’t bear, isn’t it?’
The cat a boy had thrown a stone at earlier brushed against Guy’s legs and he kicked it viciously so that it ran away with a high mew of pain.
‘Dad!’
‘One – and – two – and – three,’ I said, and the music filled the garden and the rain began to fall.
Later, Hayden said cheerfully, ‘That wasn’t too bad. Now, let’s go and celebrate.’
‘Do you mean have a drink?’
‘No. This is for kids. Let’s go somewhere adult.’
I had a sense of foreboding: his pupils were dilated and his speech was faintly slurred.
‘I’m going home,’ said Guy, his voice thick with hostility. ‘My wife will be waiting and there are things she and I need to talk about.’ For some reason, he always called Celia ‘my wife’ when Hayden was around, as if he needed to remind himself of his own unassailable stability.
Hayden shrugged. ‘As you wish. But one of my mates is throwing a party. We might as well drop in, see what it’s like – it isn’t far from here. Ten minutes’ walk, if that.’
‘What kind of party?’ asked Amos.
‘A grown-up party.’ Hayden grinned at him. ‘You look a bit anxious.’
‘Why should I be anxious?’
‘I don’t know. Why should you?’
‘I’m not.’
‘So you’re coming?’
‘Yes,’ said Amos.
‘I thought we were going to have a meal together,’ said Sonia. I could see that she was trying to give him a way out.
‘I’m not hungry,’ said Amos. ‘I had a burger, anyway.’
‘You’d better come as well, Sonia,’ said Hayden, jovially. ‘Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t go wild.’
Sonia looked at him icily. She was the only one among us who ever seemed to quell Hayden, but not tonight. He patted her shoulder and said: ‘Is that glare your way of saying yes?’
‘I’ll come if you want,’ said Sonia to Amos, turning her back on Hayden.
‘Great. Neal?’
‘No,’ said Neal.
‘No?’
‘I’m not in the mood.’
‘OK. That’s the four of us, then.’
‘Your maths is wrong,’ I said.
‘You, Sonia, Amos and me – I assume young Joakim is staying with his mates.’
‘You haven’t asked me. You’re making assumptions.’
‘You’ll like it.’ He touched the back of my hand. ‘You’re a party animal.’
‘A tired and pissed-off party animal.’
‘Please.’ He leaned forward and said softly into my ear, ‘I need to be with you tonight.’
I was glad that in the dim light no one could see me blush. ‘Just for a bit, then.’
‘Well.’ Neal aimed for a casual tone and missed. ‘If you’re all going, I might as well join you after all.’
Hayden smiled widely at him. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Why not? The more the merrier.’
It was a big party and a tiny house. Every room bulged with people. They overflowed up the staircase and spilled out into the narrow garden. Music pumped loudly; I could feel the walls shake and the floorboards vibrate. As far as I could tell, in the smoky half-darkness, it was a motley collection: some young, even as young as Joakim, and some much older – men with grey hair pulled back into ponytails, women with tattoos on their shoulders and a musky smell. It was like being in a music tent at Glastonbury, except the beer was free, cold and plentiful.
Hayden was swallowed up in the crowd, most of whom seemed to know him. I saw a woman with beautiful red hair throw her arms around his neck. Sonia and Amos went into the garden together; later I saw them sitting on the uncut grass under a small dead tree, sharing a glass of wine and talking to a hugely pregnant woman. Neal stuck to me as I threaded through the rooms in search of a drink and a place I could sit and watch the crowd. When I was a teenager, I used to hate being at a party where I didn’t know anyone: that agonizing self-consciousness when you stand in a room full of animated strangers talking to each other, hugging, kissing – what are you supposed to do with yourself? Arrange your face in that I-don’t-care look? Spend a large amount of time in the bathroom, while people who genuinely need to be in there rattle the door handle? Walk purposefully around as if you’re searching for a friend you know isn’t there? I can’t remember when I stopped feeling awkward and learned just to sit back and see what happened.
‘Where are we going?’ Neal said.
‘I’m going to sit on the stairs, I think.’