6. A Very, Very Bad Bed
Chapter 6
A Very, Very Bad Bed
A my made one final check of her flat. It was bare now she’d delivered the last of her Christmas craft commissions and the table in the corner of the living room was empty. It was time to go. She closed the door, locked it, and followed Harry down the stairs. He’d been too excited to wait in their top-floor flat, but it was very cold to stand around outside, so they’d compromised and brought the cases and boxes of food and presents down to the grey, concrete lobby to wait there for Matt and Oliver. Someone in one of the flats had stuck an old, bent plastic red-and-gold sign reading Happy Christmas on the back of the heavy brown wooden door to the lobby, which made the utilitarian space even more depressing on this dim, grey morning. Harry stood on tiptoe by the window, watching the gateway and Amy was left to her own thoughts.
She hadn’t heard from Matt that morning. He’d met Diane the night before, and he’d planned to tell her the truth about their relationship. If it had gone wrong he’d promised to ring, but no call had come, therefore she presumed that that Diane had taken the news well and was still coming. However, until she could speak to Matt in person, Amy worried.
‘There’s a car, it’s them!’ Harry shouted. ‘No. It isn’t. Bollicks.’
It was a good time to have a quiet word with Harry about Diane and how important it was to make a good impression. It mattered that she liked them – or at least she didn’t dislike them.
‘Harry, we’ve talked about using that word, haven’t we?’ He nodded. ‘When we get to the cottage,’ she continued, ‘remember that Oliver’s granny’ll be there. She’s a bit old-fashioned, and we don’t want to upset her. It’s Christmas, after all. So, be careful about what you say, please. Perhaps don’t say things are bollicks but choose another word.’
Harry turned away from the window. ‘Crap? Dad said crap when I broke my bed. He said it was a crap bed and he was going to complain to the shop.’
‘In the circumstances, perhaps that was understandable. But it doesn’t mean you have to say that word.’ She perched on the edge of her suitcase, which wasn’t a comfortable seat.
‘I guess. No crap and no bollicks. What am I allowed to say? What about sucks? Can I say it sucks? They say that on the Simpsons sometimes.’
‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Maybe rubbish or very bad would be better.’
‘Ooh, Oliver, that’s very bad!’ he mimicked Diane’s accent. ‘Your bed has broken because you shouldn’t have been bouncing on it like a trampoline, and because it was a a very, very bad bed.’
He turned back to look out of the window, standing on tiptoe to try and see over the top of the car-park wall. ‘I guess I’m not allowed to say shit?’ he asked, loudly. She was grateful the old lady in the bottom floor flat was quite deaf.
‘ No Harry! I told you about that in the summer. Under no circumstances should you say that word. Never.’
‘Joseph Norton says it all the time. He’s in Year Six.’
‘Joseph Norton should be told not to say it.’
‘Maybe.’ He grimaced. ‘I know, what about pants? Can I say it’s pants?’
‘I suppose so, if you have to. But don’t say it all the time.’
Harry sighed an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.
‘Poo?’
‘I’d prefer it if you could try not to talk about poo.’
‘Then what do I say if I really need a poo?’
‘You go to the toilet without announcing it publicly first.’
‘Oh.’ His face fell. ‘I suppose. It’s just two days. What about willy, can I say that?
‘If you have to talk about willies, then I guess you can say it.’
‘Piss?’
‘Absolutely not. Let me guess, Joseph Norton again?’
‘He knows all the best words. So, what do I say if I need one? A wizz? A pee?’
‘A wee. You can tell me you need a wee if you have to.’
‘So, if I have to, I can say poo, pants, willy and wee. But not bollicks, shit, crap or piss. Got it. I guess I’m not allowed to say bugger or bastard either, am I?’ He looked up at her hopefully.
‘Not a chance. How do you even know those words?’
‘Peter Thompson from the farm says them. I heard him say them. He said Joe the sheepdog was a flighty bugger when he ran the wrong way up the track.’
‘He’s a farmer. Farmers are allowed to say things like that. ’
‘Can I be a farmer when I grow up?’ asked Harry, hopefully.
‘Wait and see.’ She got up from the case. ‘This is uncomfortable. My bum’s going numb.’
‘Don’t say bum, Oliver’s granny won’t like it.’ He sniggered as he looked out of the window again. Several cars passed the entrance to the car park but none of them turned in.
‘What about sex? Can I say that?’ Harry asked after it had become obvious none of the cars were Matt’s. Amy sighed and Harry giggled.
‘You’re pushing your luck now, Harry.’
‘Like, the sex of that sheepdog is a boy?’ He grinned.
‘No. The gender of that sheepdog is a boy.’
He pulled a face, and then suddenly his eyes lit up with excitement as a car turned into the car park.
‘They’re here! They’re here! Come on, Mam, they’re here!’ He pelted out of the door, leaving her with the pile of luggage, as Oliver leapt out of the car and ran towards him. Despite the fact they’d been at school together only two days ago, they greeted each other as if they hadn’t met for several months and immediately began conducting some important business with football cards.
Matt parked and came across to help her with the boxes and bags. He was dressed for winter, wearing a thick padded gilet over a knitted jumper, which made him appear cosy and cuddly, but his face seemed thinner than usual and more drawn, and there were dark rings under his eyes.
‘How did it go with Diane?’ She wanted to get straight to the point.
‘We’ll talk about it later.’ He glanced at the boys who appeared to be totally engrossed in bartering Marcus Rashford for Aaron Ramsdale with all the seriousness of a genuine Premier League transfer.
‘Everything’s okay? She’s still coming?’
‘Yes.’ It was hard to read anything much into his monosyllabic reply.
‘So, she doesn’t mind about us? That’s good, isn’t it?’ She tried to catch his eye, but he turned away.
‘It’s complicated. Is this everything?’ He picked up the biggest of the boxes of presents with an effort. All these extra shifts recently had really taken it out of him.
‘Yes please, all to go in the boot.’ She picked up her bag. It was a good job she’d decided to do a big online food shop and get it delivered to the cottage. Even though Matt’s car was twice the size of hers, the boot was already nearly full, and Amy’s luggage was bulky. She knew what the Lakes could be like in the winter so she’d packed plenty of layers, waterproof coats and boots.
Matt packed the boot like he did everything: carefully and with plenty of thought. When it was done to his satisfaction, he shut it firmly. He was still avoiding meeting her eye, as he turned to the boys.
‘Come on lads, in you get. You can sort out your cards on the way. I want to try and get there in daylight, and if the roads are bad it’ll take a while. I know what the A66 can be like in winter.’ He closed the door for them once both the boys had climbed into the back seat.
‘You did tell her, didn’t you?’ Amy asked quietly as they each moved towards their own door of the car, the bulk of the heavy four-wheel drive in between them, and the boys out of earshot inside.
‘It didn’t quite go like I hoped it would,’ Matt said as they both climbed into the car. ‘We’ll talk later. When the boys can’t hear.’
They were soon on their way, and outside the winter scenery sped by like a film; the frosted branches and icy puddles seemed unreal in comparison to the warmth inside the car. It was unusually quiet with the boys both looking out of the windows and Matt concentrating on driving.
‘Does anybody want to play a game?’ she asked after they had driven the first twenty or so miles and she couldn’t stand the silence any more. She needed to distract herself from worrying about what Matt had - or hadn’t - said to Diane.
‘I spy?’ suggested Harry.
‘ Not I spy.’ Games of I spy always started with high expectations of what it was possible to see from the car ( No, Harry, that’s not a hippopotamus, it’s a rock ,) and ended in an argument about how to spell knees.
‘We don’t want to play. We’re going to do our cards, aren’t we, Harry?’ Oliver said. Harry nodded.
Amy settled back to look out of the window. She’d expected to feel excited as they headed for the Lake District, but instead she felt a growing unease. Matt’s silence was making it worse.
From Scotch Corner they turned onto the A66 and began the ascent into the wild countryside of the Pennines. There were traces of snow in the ditches and tall painted posts marked the edge of the road in case of heavy snow obscuring the route. Amy shivered. She wouldn’t want to be lost in the snow up here, and heavy grey clouds bore down on them with menace. She checked the weather app on her phone again – she wouldn’t have the luxury of doing this for much longer as the signal at Elder Fell Farm was non-existent. Still no mention of snow, even for the high Pennine moors, only heavy cloud and rising winds. The car was buffeted by a strong gust and she was thankful Matt had a sturdy four-wheel drive and was used to driving in the worst of conditions.
As they passed the M6 she glanced back at the boys and, even as she turned, a handful of football cards fluttered to the floor from Oliver’s hand. They were both fast asleep.
Amy realised from the road signs that they were going to be turning off the main road soon and heading down towards Ullswater. That meant they didn’t have much further to go until they reached their destination and she couldn’t guarantee that the boys would stay asleep for long. She took a deep breath.
‘Oliver isn’t going to hear us now,’ she said. ‘So, tell me how it went last night with Diane?’