Chapter 15 #2
“Mick! Wait!” I heard the faint sound of my brother’s voice through the rain. He must have been on the doorstep. Mum would murder him for making a scene.
“Mick! Stop!” I heard him again, a little louder this time.
I couldn’t stop, though. If I stopped, I’d lose my momentum and I might just collapse here on the street. Pat ran up to me and grabbed my shoulder.
“Will you stop?” I shrugged his hand off and carried on walking. My hair was falling over my face, dripping in front of my eyes.
“I can’t, Pat. I have to go.”
“I know you do.”
I wasn’t expecting him to say that, and it stopped me in my tracks. I thought he might try and persuade me that they’d come round.
“They won’t let you stay. We both know that,” he said, reading my thoughts.
My stomach rolled again, and a lump filled my throat. I had to get out of here. I nodded at him. He knew the score. We both did.
“Where will you go?”
“Tommy and Eric’s,” I said without thinking. Of course Tommy and Eric would take me in. They had a spare room that they pretended Eric slept in. Thank fuck for that. There was a tiny ray of light in the darkness. They wouldn’t turn me away. I’d offer to pay rent.
Shit, rent. Money. I worked for my dad. Fuck! What was I going to do? My chest tightened with panic.
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Pat nodded. He spat out some rainwater; his hair was dripping all over his face, too.
“Alright. That’s good.” He looked satisfied. “They’ll look after you. I’ll come and see you as soon as I can.”
He would? Wasn’t he as disgusted as Mum and Dad? I looked at his hand on my shoulder, then up to his face. He looked back at me, sympathy and sadness shining in his eyes.
“Really?”
“Yeah, of course.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You’re my brother, you idiot.”
“But… Mum and Dad–”
“Are from a different generation, Mick. They don’t understand.”
“And you do?”
A look passed over his face. “Well, no, not exactly. But better than they do. I don’t understand why you… you know. But I don’t hate you for it. How could I?” He pushed his hair out of his face–a pointless gesture because it fell straight back down.
“Shit, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”
“That’s a myth.”
“What?”
“Being wet doesn’t give you a cold.”
“Is that important right now?”
“No.” He smiled sadly. “But making sure you’re safe is. I’ll go inside now.”
Of all the awful things that had happened in the last ten minutes, my brother’s kindness was what sent me over the edge. I felt the prickle of tears again, and I couldn’t hold them back anymore. At least the rain would hide my shame.
“I’ve gotta go,” I said.
“Yeah, alright. Tell Tommy and Eric I said ‘Hi.’” He jogged back towards the house.
That was when I realised the plonker wasn’t wearing shoes–he must have run out after me so fast he forgot to put them on.
For fuck’s sake, his socks were soaked through.
He was definitely going to get a cold. Or maybe not?
I’m sure loads of Victorian heroines died from being out in the rain, didn’t they?
Fucking hell, my brain! I needed to get out of the bloody rain, at any rate. Catching colds in the rain might have been a myth, but hypothermia bloody wasn’t.
Walking away from my house, towards Valence park where Tommy and Eric’s cottage was, I tried to keep myself together. In five minutes, I’d be with my friends and then I could break down. I was so bloody grateful that they had stayed close by.
Pat hadn’t been surprised about where I was going.
He didn’t ask where I’d sleep, either. Officially speaking, Eric was Tommy’s lodger, but I knew they shared the big bedroom and had a spare bed I could borrow for a bit.
Did Pat know about them? He must have known about me before today, too.
For all his talk about a new generation, if he’d found out about me today, I know he’d have at least been shocked.
As I mulled over what it all meant, my feet took me along the familiar path.
I was soaked through and freezing cold, but I’d be okay in a minute.
Before I knew it, I was in the front garden of a small cottage on the grounds of an old manor house.
Manoeuvring all my worldly belongings to the floor, I rapped on the door.
After about a minute, there was no answer. If they weren’t in, I’d just have to sit on their doorstep and wait for them to come home. Drenched already from the downpour, I couldn’t get any wetter. About to give up, I heard noises from inside the cottage. Banging and crashing. Raised voices.
Instead of knocking again, I tried the door handle, which gave way, and the door opened. Without waiting to be invited, I walked into the small hall, which was bloody stupid of me, because the noise could have been coming from burglars.
Taking one cautious step into the living area of the house, I was relieved to see Eric, not robbers. The relief was short-lived when I noticed that Eric was sopping wet as well, his arms heaped full of blankets.
“Eric?”
He jumped in alarm and dropped the linen.
“Mick! Hello! Not really a good time right now, old chap.” With his back to me, he picked up all the sheets and towels and heaped them in his arms.
“I can see that. What’s going on?”
“Um, a little mishap with the plumbing. Some pipe or other is spraying water out of the ceiling when it ought not to be. Tommy’s trying to fix it before the spare room goes the way of Atlantis.”
“Spare room?” My heart sank.
“Yes, the blasted pipe burst and has soaked the bed and carpet.”
“Eric! Where are those bloody blankets?” Tommy bellowed from upstairs.
“Coming, sweetheart!”
“Don’t you bloody sweetheart me! Get your arse up here and be useful before the whole fucking house falls apart!”
“Sorry, Mick,” Eric said from behind the pile of cloth. “Must dash. Pop back tomorrow for a visit if you like. Or we’ll see you in The Cherry Tree on Friday?”
“Yeah, of course,” I said, but he was already running back towards the stairs.
He hadn’t seen me; didn’t realise it was raining and had no idea I was waterlogged too.
If he had, I’m sure he would have invited me in.
Their spare room was flooded, so there was nowhere for me to sleep anyway.
I looked across the small living space at their tiny, lumpy sofa and got back ache just looking at it.
They had a disaster to deal with too. The last thing they needed was my sorry arse to look after.
Fuck. What the hell was I going to do? I picked up my things and started walking again with no idea where to go. Where the hell could I go? I saw a park bench and sat down to try and collect my thoughts. I couldn’t get any bloody wetter, and I just needed a minute to think.
With my head in my hands, I tried to think logically.
I could go to the Frankies’ place. Except they’d told Davey he couldn’t stay the other day because one room was full of boxes and the other was now a nursery waiting for Frankie Junior.
Plus, I wouldn’t want to make life harder for Sissy in her state.
Alan and Davey both still lived at home, and I couldn’t face the idea of being with another set of parents.
Fuck! This was such a mess. I needed a ciggy to help calm my nerves and let me think more clearly. Patting my pockets, I remembered my fags were in my work coat. Bollocks. What next? A plague of fucking locusts?
Pulling my hand out of my pocket, I felt something else in there. It was a crumpled bit of paper.
I let out a little gasp when I saw what it was. Michael’s phone number. How long had it been there? I didn’t need the paper; I knew his number off by heart. I didn’t have any money for the phone box, anyway.
But it did give me an idea. I could go to Michael’s.
He had a spare room. Granted, I’d never been in it, but it was there, and if it came to it, I could kip on his couch.
Visions of the night we’d spent together flooded my mind.
Staying with him wasn’t the best plan, with my feelings for him all mixed up, but I didn’t have any other choice.
I’d have to bunk the tube, my wallet was in my work coat as well. Fuck it, my day couldn’t get any worse. At least if I got caught by the old bill for fare evasion, I’d have somewhere dry to sleep for the night. That wasn’t a comforting thought.
I had a plan. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was something. I would go to Michael. Michael would help me.