Chapter 28
MICHAEL
‘Here you go, love.’ Mam passes me a Kwik Save bag, full to bursting. I smile gratefully. She’s done this since I was a teen, packing me more food than I would normally eat in a week.
‘Thanks.’ I lean in and give her a hug.
‘And you’ve got some suncream?’
‘Aye.’
‘Mike?’ Dad thumps his chest with a meaty fist as he coughs, the other pointing to the pad next to the phone. ‘Some lass called for you.’
The hallway tilts. I place my hand against the flowery wallpaper, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that every other sound is blocked out.
My eyes lift to the spiral pad, a pencil hanging off a piece of string next to it. There’s a name written down. I’m almost too scared to get any closer in case it’s not hers.
My vision blurs. I blink, leaning closer.
Alice. Not a figment of my imagination. Not a prank call. Her name is there, scrawled in my dad’s handwriting with a half-chewed pencil.
‘Thanks. I…’ I clear my throat, scan the number written below. ‘I’ll…’ I swallow. ‘I’ll give her a quick call now.’
My parents stand there, looking at me, then the phone.
What I wouldn’t give for one of those fancy phones you can walk around with right now. ‘In private?’
Dad rolls his eyes but follows Mam into the kitchen. I scrape my hair back, lift the receiver and force my shaking finger into the dial. I lean back against the wall, twisting the green plastic rings around my fingers. A woman’s voice answers. ‘52080?’
‘Oh, hi. Um, is Alice home?’
‘Hold on, let me check.’
I fidget with my collar, the heel of my shoes tapping against the skirting board.
‘Hello?’ the woman says.
‘Yes. Um, hello?’
‘She’s out for the day.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘Sorry. No. She’s renting the room, keeps herself to herself. Can I tell her who’s called?’
‘Yeah. It’s Mike, Michael. If you can ask her to call back? I’m out for most of the day, but… if you can tell her that I’ll be at Whitby Abbey today if she… if she fancies it?’
‘Whitby?’ the woman says like I’ve just said ‘Mars’.
‘Aye. Never mind. It was daft. Just tell her I’d love her to call back. Tell her she dropped something and…’ My mind flicks back into action. ‘And the address? I think I had it written down wrong. I’ve got 76 Pinewood Road but—’
‘Oh, you’re a ways off. This is number sixteen.’
Sixteen. It was a one not a seven. I write it down. Twice.
‘Well, have fun in Whitby,’ she trails off.
‘Thanks, and, well, just tell her that… I’ve been thinking about her.’
‘Right.’ The woman’s tone becomes sharper, and I realise I sound like a bloody stalker.
‘Great. Well, I’ll be off then.’
‘Tara, Michael.’
‘Bye.’
I lower the receiver in the cradle carefully, a smile creeping across my face.
‘You look like the cat who’s got the cream,’ Dad says, dipping his hand inside a bag of Murray Mints. Mam clips him round the head. ‘Those are for Mike, for the journey, love.’
‘He’s not going to miss one bloody mint, now, is he?’
Mam sighs, shakes her head, folds over the packet and passes them to me. ‘Drive safe, love.’
‘Aye. Always do.’
She kisses me on the cheek and opens the door. I tap my pockets, checking I have everything, and head towards the car. I try to wipe the grin off my face. Number sixteen. I’ve found her. Maybe she’s already on her way to meet me?
‘Mike?’ Dad follows, hands in his pockets. He pulls out a tenner and passes it over.
‘I’m good, Dad.’
‘Stop being an arse and take it, will you? The compensation is through. Coal Board came good in the end.’ Even now, he’s defending them, like they’ve done him a favour, when it’s their fault he can’t speak for more than five minutes without practically hacking up a lung.
‘Should see us through the next year, lad. I know you’ve been taking some of the weight off, but…
we’ll be alright now.’ He meets my eyes, a whole conversation not spoken out loud.
‘Jim says you’ve got a real knack for that painting lark. ’
‘Aye. I’m alright.’
He looks away, raising a hand at Bob from over the road.
‘Get yourself a piece of cod, eh?’ Dad says, eyes back on me. ‘Best fish and chips in the land, Whitby.’
He claps me on the shoulder giving it a squeeze. He opens his mouth as if there is more he wants to say but clamps it back shut. He gives me a nod and closes the door behind him.
I settle into the seat, wind the window down and stick the mints in the glove box. I hesitate, the image of Kate standing by the door popping into my mind from nowhere.
Bob from across the road is clipping his hedge, the mad Labrador from next door barking. Carl pulls back the lace from the top window and gives me the bird; I give him one back, then shove a mixtape in the deck and start the engine.
Today is going to be a good day.