Misspent Youth (26 page)

“I
HAVEN’T USED THIS ROOM FOR AGES
,” Alison said as she showed Tim into the bungalow’s back bedroom. “It might need a little freshening up.”

Tim looked around, and managed a small smile. The bed was covered in big cardboard boxes full of books, stacked three deep. Not that it mattered; there was no way to reach the bed anyway. More boxes and plastic storage bins were littering the floor, along with other stuff, intriguingly shaped items wrapped tightly in newspaper that was yellowed and crumbling. Polyethylene shopping bags were stuffed full of clothes, or at least bundles of fabric. When he looked down at his feet, he saw a pair of ancient hiking boots, so old the dark brown leather had dried out and cracked. It wasn’t the kind of footwear he would ever normally associate with Aunt Alison.

“Ah, those,” she said wistfully, following his surprised gaze. “I’ve worn those on three continents, you know—other than Europe. Tramped along the Peruvian coast, marched up the Uluru rock even though you’re not supposed to, and wandered over the Serengeti. Good times, before the world went the way we know it today.”

“Yeah,” Tim said miserably. “It’s a pretty rotten place now.”

Alison’s arm went around his shoulder. “I was speaking in general terms, not what happened to you. Now, come on, let’s get some space cleared for you.”

They stacked the boxes along one of the walls, making a precariously high half-pyramid. Other containers were taken out to the garage, once Alison had inspected them and reluctantly admitted she might not use them again. The rear wall of the garage wasn’t even visible, there was so much junk stored inside already.

When they cleared the bed and she found him a clean duvet cover they went back into the living room. The storm had cleared, leaving the sun glinting brightly off the leaves and flowers in the unkempt garden.

Alison settled herself in a deep old armchair and poured a large gin and tonic. Tim was sent to the kitchen to fetch some ice. The freezer was badly frosted up, with just a couple of packets inside, both of them ready-made meals for one, long past their expiration date.

“What do you eat?” he asked when he came back with a few ice cubes
clink
ing round in the glass. “There’s hardly anything in there to cook.”

Alison took a long sip, and relaxed even further into the squashed nest of cushions. “The thing is, Tim, I don’t really do cooking. Never was much good at it, not even the microwave stuff. I either pop down to the pub, or get myself a takeout. You don’t mind having those kind of meals, do you?”

“No. That’s fine.” Tim was perched on the corner of the couch, staring out across the big reservoir without really seeing it.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I think you’re supposed to. All my friends who talk native psychobabble say you should rationalize events back to their origin point so you can acknowledge their structural integration within your life flow.”

“Alison, that’s…that’s…such a load of crap.”

“I know that.” She grinned at him, and took another sip. “What they actually mean is, don’t bottle things up. They only hurt for longer.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Dad’s got my girlfriend. What can you possibly say about that?”

“We could start with how you feel about it.”

“Feel? Feel! Alison, she was my girlfriend!”

“I thought it was all over.”

He let his head fall into his hands. “Yeah, well. It was over because he moved in on her. I found that out today.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Was that a joke?”

“Let me put it this way. If it had been anyone else—anyone—other than Jeff, would you be surprised that Annabelle had found herself a new boyfriend?”

“No. Suppose not. She’s so beautiful. Why, are you taking his side?”

“No. I think what he’s done is despicable. It’s not something I’ll ever forgive him for, either. But knowing my big brother, I have to say I’m not surprised. And if you can withstand one more observation: I always thought Annabelle was sort of flighty.”

“What do you mean, flighty?”

“Let me put it this way, I don’t think the two of you were ever scheduled to get married and live happily ever after. I know she was the prettiest girlfriend you’ve had so far; and I know this is what I said last time, but you’ll find someone else just as nice. No, scratch that, nicer. Let’s face it, Tim, it takes two to tango. She’s not exactly innocent in all this, now, is she?”

“No.” It came out as a hugely sullen grunt. “Suppose not.” He really didn’t want to examine that part of it.
Simon was right about her. And she did to me exactly what she did to him.

“You want a drink?” Alison asked.

He was tempted. Just wash her out of his mind, his life, with a huge flush of drinks or synth8. The one thing he’d promised himself he would never do again.

Because Annabelle didn’t like it.

There were synths that would make this a whole lot easier to handle. Taking them would be so simple, making his life a pleasurable thing once more. He just had to stop being true to himself.

With every cell in his body screaming to say the opposite, he said: “No thanks, Alison, my head’s in a big enough mess as it is.”

“Tough it out, eh? Good for you.” She took another big sip of her gin and tonic. “Have you told your mother yet?”

“No.” He shifted around as if the sofa was suddenly crawling with ants. “I was sort of wondering if you might do that.”

Alison cocked one eyebrow at him. “How long till you leave for university?”

“Y
OUR SISTER IS CALLING
,” the domestic computer said.

“Put her on.”

Alison’s face filled the big living room screen. At the best of times that scale was intimidating. With a scowl on her face she appeared more than a little frightening.

“You stupid,
stupid
shit,” she said. The image vanished.

The Official Jeff Baker Lifesite/News

Following the amicable separation from my wife, I am fortunate to be able to announce that I have found someone new to share my life with. Ms. Annabelle Goddard and I have known each other for several weeks, and have grown close during this time. We are now making plans for a long and happy future together.

“Call from your wife.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe even
you
could do that. You thoughtless bastard. Have you got any idea what you’ve done to that poor boy?”

“Oh come on, Sue, it was hardly deliberate. You were the one who let him come home early.”

“Jesus wept, don’t you dare try and shift the blame on this. You and that juvenile tart should never have happened. Not ever, Jeff! Click, end call.”

International Sun Leader

>hyperlinks<

International Sun/people & politics site

International Sun/it’s your taxmoney site

International Sun/topless topten site

International Sun/shirt off for the girls site

Rejuve grandpa bonks schoolgirl.

Jeff Baker, the planet’s oldest teenager, has scored with an eighteen-year-old babe (bikini picture >hyperlink<). The superstud pensioner brazenly announced on his own lifesite that he was bedding the gorgeous Annabella Goddard. What he didn’t mention was that sensational Bella was just a schoolgirl when they met (pictured in her uniform >hyperlink<). The incredible reason why they got together, your International Sun has discovered, was all thanks to Jeff’s son, Tim, who was Bella’s long-time and devoted boyfriend. Innocent Tim introduced the pair when his old man came back from his fabulously expensive Euro Rejuvenation Treatment. Now the besotted dad’s gone and elbowed his pining lad aside so he can grapple with big boobed Bella (bikini picture2 >hyperlink<).

Heartbroken Tim has wound up moving in with his aunty while the couple enjoy nightly romps in the playboy’s palatial home where poor Tim grew up. “I can’t stand living there anymore,” said the desperate boy, adding: “They’ve ruined my life.”

What’s more, Bella isn’t the first girl the frisky Jeff has bedded since he finished his treatment. Sad Martina Lewis (picture >hyperlink<) had a very public fling with the insatiable Jeff several weeks ago. “He was all a girl could dream of between the sheets,” the rejected Martina said yesterday. But she doesn’t hold any grudges. “I wish Bella well. He’s a great catch.”

The brainy hunk (picture >hyperlink<) has also featured heavily in Rob Lacey’s campaign for the European presidency. Last night, a spokesperson for the hopeful candidate’s office said: “Jeff Baker is an excellent example of rejuvenation. This latest development only proves how successful the treatment which Prime Minister Lacey endorsed can be.” Asked if Jeff would be taking any further part in the campaign, the spokesperson replied: “I think he’s got his hands full right now.”

The International Sun says: You lucky bastard, Jeff, we’re right behind you, mate.

Are you one of the girls Jeff has slept with? If you are and have a story to tell, contact our newsdesk >txtlink<. We pay the best for the best.

English Independence Council Official Site

Commentary

Nice for Some.

Jeff Baker cost trillions of our taxeuros to rejuvenate, and for what exactly? This is not a treatment that will ever be made available to everyone. It is the province of the elite. And that of course means the unelected Eurocrats that rule our lives, and their cronies in the Federal Parliament. They knew that before they funded the treatment, and they know it for certain now. Yet all they do is spit in our faces when we complain. They sold the project to their sheeplike followers because Baker would deliver some new gizmo for continental companies to manufacture and sell to us at exorbitant prices. Now, he can’t even be asked to do that, instead he’s shacked up with some teenage bimbo, screwing himself into a heart attack. Nice for you, Baker. We’d like you to remember who paid for you each time you wake up in the morning. Out here in the real world people are dying, people are oppressed, people are being slung in prison under foreign laws, and people are being robbed of their income so bastards like Lacey can further their own selfish ideology and lives. Why don’t you try and remember that, Baker? We’ll certainly remember you after the referendum, and before, too.

Remember to use a scatterwall program after accessing this site. Don’t let Europol know you’re reading free speech, they don’t like it.

It was the only call in a whole week that Tim roused himself to answer.

The scuffed screen in his bedroom showed him Vanessa’s heart-shaped face creased with anxiety. She was regarding her own screen’s picture with almost maternal concern. “I should have called earlier,” she said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to speak to anybody. How’s it been?”

“Pretty shitty. The residents are furious with Alison for taking me in. There are reporters camped outside the estate gates, and there’s already been a couple of fights between them and the security company people.”

“That’s awful. They’re so much animals. Can’t the police do something?”

“They say not. I just can’t escape, you know? The pair of them are all over the news streams. It’s like they’re a celebrity couple, or something; they’re getting the same kind of coverage that Sir Mitch and Stephanie do. God, even the DataMail interviewed Annabelle. Everything she said was just crap, how much she loves him, how much they’ve got in common. And I saw pictures of them going to the Summer Serpentine party together down in London. Then there was a thing about them at a nightclub in Mayfair.”

“Filter it out, Tim, for heaven’s sake. You’re the best programmer out of all of us.”

“Yeah, right. Did you know she was seeing him?”

“No!” She shook her head in regret. “No, Tim, I didn’t. None of us did. Look, I’m majorly sorry it happened, but you’re too good for her. Really.”

He knew he should smile at that, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Thanks.”

“That’s what she’s like, Tim. Just a body, there’s no character there, no substance. If I’d been dating you, I would never have done that.”

“But we weren’t dating.”

“That’s just a timing thing. Hey look, are you still coming to the protest march?”

“Dunno. Hadn’t thought about it much.”

“Figures. But you know, you’re really due a break. Why don’t you come up here to Nottingham for a couple of days before? There’s room; and this house has a big walled garden, nobody would know you’re here. We could travel down to meet with the others afterward.”

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. How come she’d never given off signals when they were at school? Five years they’d known each other—and nothing. “That’s, er, really kind. But you so much don’t want me to visit right now. They’ve doubled the size of my bodyguard team, which is a huge pain. The Duke cow said the EIC were showing an interest.”

“God, that is so much scary.”

“I don’t suppose they’ll be interested in me. Christ, I hate him more than they do.”

“It’ll all die down. These things do. The bodyguards will go away.”

“I hope so. Call you back in a couple of days?”

“I’ll be here.”