Gang Of Losers

  Chapter Nine

  The school term started to wind down. Study periods and mock exams, quizzes and visits to local businesses. Afternoon lessons were skipped in favour of bus rides to Bath to hang out in the cafes at the top of town and gawp at the High School girls.

  The Steal Guitars band practices continued every Wednesday and Friday, the atmosphere lightening slightly from the first session, but still very business-like compared to the Blues Train sessions. Did the Heritage brothers actually like each other, Theo wondered? But then again, Theo didn't exactly talk that much to his own brother. Maybe all brothers were like this.

  Theo thought of the chewing gum girl constantly and hoped he would see her on one of his frequent visits to the Fountain in the evenings. Then, two weeks after first seeing her at the White Hart, he got his chance: he was walking towards town as a bus pulled up at a stop in front of him. He passed the bus as the passengers got off, and he was sure he saw the flash of an electric blue mohair jumper bounding down the stairs from the top deck. His neck refused to turn however, and he kept walking, too panic-stricken to look back. Then he could hear footsteps very close behind him, and they sounded like they could belong to a rather heavy-set teenage girl. He was sure it was her. Why couldn't he just turn to look? And if it was her, say "Hi, remember me from the other night?" And that would be that - he and the chewing gum girl would be an item.

  The footsteps followed him for what felt like an age, but he just did not have it in him to turn. Then, when he finally got to the safety of his friends at the fountain and did look, she had gone, if indeed it was her at all.

  Apart from the beginning of the summer holidays, Theo was looking forward to the twin peaks of his debut gig as drummer for Steal Guitars at Moles, and the New England Planets gig at the White Hart. The Planets' gig was on the same day as the last day of school term, and Theo and his friends had already arranged a pre-pub session round at Pete's where bottles of Holsten Pils would be consumed, along with a quarter of red Leb - as long as Pete's older brother could come through on his promise. Theo and his friends had each contributed a fiver towards it.

  Theo hadn't seen August Wells since the Saturday a couple of weeks ago when August congratulated him on becoming Steal Guitars' drummer. August had been absent from the Fountain too, possibly he was revising - he had heard a rumour that Wells was sitting the Oxford entrance exam. Theo felt a stab of jealousy when he heard this. How dare Wells start planning for a life outside of Lyncombe! But it also made Theo acutely aware of his own indecision about what to do once his A-levels had been sat.

  He had had meetings with the schools' careers adviser, but these meetings always ended with the advisor trying to steer Theo away from trying for University on the grounds that his grades probably wouldn't be good enough. In his most recent meeting Theo floated the idea of studying to become an architect - a career path that had caught his eye in a recent careers tutorial - but the advisor had warned that a science or maths A-level would be required. Clearly this would be a problem as Theo was only studying art, history and geography. But he did have maths and technical drawing O-levels; surely that would be enough? The careers advisor didn't seem to think so. The teacher had tried to suggest alternate careers or other ways that a person could be involved with buildings, if that was what interested him.

  "Like what?" asked Theo.

  The careers advisor thought about it. "Well, people are always going to buy and sell houses, so there will always be a need for estate agents. Especially around here with all the excellent housing stock in Bath."

  Theo had never heard houses referred to as "stock" before, and the phrase intrigued him. The good thing about estate agency as a profession, the careers advisor told him, was that he would have more than enough qualifications, once his A-levels had been completed.

  Theo mentioned the conversation with the careers advisor to his father when he got home that day. Roger's eyes seemed to light up when he mentioned it. One of Roger's old friends from the sixties was now a successful estate agent in Bath. He had been to the house a few times when Theo was little, but they had lost contact, as friends tend to when careers and families come along. If Theo wanted, Roger was pretty sure he could get him some work experience at his firm. Theo thought about it. His chat with the careers advisor hadn't really gone into that much detail about what estate agent's did, other than help people buy and sell a house. But what would the job actually entail? Theo assumed it would be a nine-to-five job, which alarmed him, but on the other hand, he also assumed that a fair amount of that time would be spent showing people around houses. So you'd be out of the office for large chunks of the day. Theo decided that he was interested.

  His dad made the call to his old friend, and a week's work experience was tentatively booked in for some time in the summer holiday. With this in place, his parents asked him what he was hoping to do with the rest of the holiday. He told them that he was really keen to work on his sketching and get a decent portfolio of drawings together for his art A-level. He felt the need to get out into nature and draw, whether that be scenes of people at work, or just landscapes. "And then, once I've mastered drawing, I'll be able to make the move to oils." His parents had looked at each other with raised eyebrows, but had agreed that a summer of artistic pursuits wouldn't be a bad thing. They'd be happy to provide for him financially over the holiday as long as he was serious about the artwork and attended the estate agent work experience.

  Theo had worked in part-time jobs in one form or another since he was twelve. First a Sunday morning paper round to help pay for the blossoming drum addiction, and then evening jobs in local restaurants. Because of his proven track record as a worker, and his continued good grades at school (not to mention the fact he wouldn't be going on an expensive foreign holiday during the break), this financially-backed summer of sketching was something that his parents felt he deserved. A sum of £150 was discussed to see him through to September. As long as he didn't buy any expensive clothes, or new drums, this should be more than adequate.

  The final day of the summer term started with a school assembly followed a double form lesson in which reading lists for next year's classes were handed out. By eleven o'clock the requirements of the day had been met. Some people left early but others - Theo and his friends included - stayed in the common room playing music and chatting until the canteen opened for lunch. The sixth formers took it in turns to play music on the record player: new releases from Pink Floyd, New Order, Aztec Camera, Echo & The Bunnymen. Theo had brought his Eddie Cochran Best Of album in, and put 'Three Steps to Heaven' on the turntable when 'The Cutter' by Echo & The Bunnymen came to an end. The second the song started he knew it was the wrong thing to do. There were groans around the common room as the decidedly old-fashioned song began, and suddenly Theo felt embarrassed. He loved this music, but compared to the songs that had been playing up until this point, his choice felt totally out of place. Everyone had old favourites in their collection, but now wasn't the time to air them - this music session was about what was popular now. His awkwardness lasted for as long as the song itself and he breathed an inward sigh of relief when it finally came to an end. Several of his fellow students cheered. He responded by saying "Yeah yeah, you'll all be listening to this one day".

  "Whatever you say granddad, whatever you say." one of his fellow pupils replied.

  After his final school dinner of the school term, Theo briefly returned to his home room to say goodbye to his form teacher. His plan for the afternoon was to go to Bart's Bazaar in Bath to see if he could find a new jacket; something a bit smarter than his usual style (he had given up hope of finding the GI jacket, at least for now). As he walked through the empty corridors, he spotted his careers advisor, Mr Lordham, packing up his things in an empty classroom. Feeling sociable he popped his head around the corner.

  "Hello sir!"

  Mr Lordham looked up."Oh, hello" he replied, clearly unsure to whom he was speaking.

  "It's Th
eo Hanlon, we spoke about a career in estate agency".

  "Oh yes!"

  "Well I spoke to my dad about it and he has a friend who works for an estate agent in Bath, and they've sorted me out with a placement over the summer."

  "That's excellent news Hanlon, well done! Which agency is it?"

  Theo wasn't exactly sure. "Um, Farout and something."

  "You mean Cabot Farr?"

  Theo nodded that he did.

  "Well that's a result," continued Mr Lordham, "a very high-end firm that; they sell a lot of the Georgian town houses in Bath. Well done again!"

  This encouragement bolstered his already good mood and he hoped to continue it with a successful shopping trip. The afternoon was hot, so he stopped off at home first and changed out of his school clothes into his Wranglers and a Siouxsie & The Banshees t-shirt. He took some money from the top drawer of his desk and took the bus to Bath.

  Bart's Bazaar had just received an arrival of new stock in time for the weekend. Rows of second-hand suit jackets were squeezed onto rails in the crammed market place. Theo rifled through; lots of large checked jackets in lurid blue or red, or black dinner jackets with satin lapels. But then he came across a lovely beige sports jacket, made from linen with narrow lapels, a breast pocket and satin lining. The price tag said £4.99. Expensive for a second-hand jacket, but this one was in pristine condition and Theo knew it would be gone by tomorrow. The fit was perfect, so he bought it and found a white Fruit Of The Loom t-shirt, to make up for the one previously vandalized.

  On the way back through town towards the bus station he stopped in the Abbey churchyard to look in the window of Cabot Farr. Mr Lordham was right - all the houses for sale did seem to be pretty "high-end": Royal Crescent flats, or large stone farmhouses set in acres of land. Most of the properties commanded high five-figure sums. Theo looked into the office beyond the window to see if he could make out anyone who might be his dad's friend. But he could only see a middle-aged woman (a secretary perhaps?) and a man in a shiny suit laughing into a telephone.

  -

  There was no booze in the house that evening so Theo had to get ready without it. He didn't put any music on, as he wasn't intending to hang around in his room for long. He quickly put on the new jacket over his Banshees t-shirt from this afternoon (after rolling fresh deodorant on his armpits), ran some more Black & White through his hair and left the house one hour before he was due to be at Pete's for the pre-pub drinking session.

  He walked to the centre of Lyncombe to look in the windows of the town's two estate agents. The 'stock' on offer wasn't up to the standards of that seen earlier in the offices of Cabot Farr. These were modern two-storey houses commanding lowly prices in the fifteen-to-twenty thousand pounds bracket. There were some nicer houses for sale in the outlying villages and these seemed to go for nearer forty grand. He tried to get an idea of what his own house might be worth. Judging from the prices he'd seen this evening, he assumed it would be worth about thirty. A stone-built, three storey house near to the town centre? That's got to be worth a few bob. Maybe he'd ask his parents what they paid for it.

  Once he'd exhausted the windows of the estate agents, he started walking slowly towards Pete's. His friend lived in a similar house to his own, on one of the main roads in and out of town. As he walked he looked out for 'for sale' signs, and was surprised how many of them there were. Were there always this many, or was this a popular time of year to buy or sell houses?

  He arrived at Pete's at ten to seven. Pete's mum answered the door and told him that Pete was up in the attic room and several of his friends had already arrived, along with Pete's older brother and some of his friends. Theo climbed the stairs up to the third floor. Pete's room was on the second floor, but the house had a large converted attic area that was used as a general chill-out area by Pete and his siblings. As he approached the doorway to this attic space he could hear music pumping away - Stiff Little Fingers he was pretty certain. He opened the door and was greeted warmly by his friends and Pete's brother, who was playing a game of snooker on the half-size table with a guy that Theo didn't know.

  He took a can of Hofmeister from a cardboard box in the middle of the room and sat on the floor, his back against the wall. He chatted easily with his friends, discussing plans for the summer and taking turns to put music on the stereo (he made sure to keep his choices contemporary this time). Cigarettes were smoked and the windows opened to allow the resulting fumes to waft into the night. After half an hour or so, Pete's older brother left the room and returned a couple of minutes later.

  "Right, they've gone," he said, and reached inside the pocket of his leather jacket to pull out a small dark lump wrapped in cellophane. He unwrapped it to reveal a perfect brick of red Leb. He cleared a space on a glass-topped coffee table and set about rolling a couple of three-skinned joints. Someone put Metal Box by Public Image Ltd on the stereo, and the joints were passed around.

  Theo had tried various drugs in his sixteen years - coke, speed, amyl nitrate, weed. He enjoyed them all, but nothing made him feel as relaxed, as jovial, or as cosy as alcohol, preferably in the form of a four pack of Holsten Pils or a litre of white wine. But everyone else seemed to rate this marijuana stuff, so he thought he would give it another go. One of the joints came his way, passed to him by an older girl with thick black eyeliner and a trilby perched on her head. He thanked her and took a long drag, holding it in for as long as he could. The drag felt smooth, which meant that he'd taken a big hit of the Leb itself. He took one more drag, this one more tobacco-heavy, and passed the joint on. Once he exhaled, he took another gulp from the tin of Hofmeister. He remembered one of his friends telling him that smoking weed and drinking at the same time was like "pissing into the wind", but Theo didn't see why he couldn't do both at the same time. No drug was good enough to make him abandon alcohol.

  The music continued, the bass line making the speakers of the stereo rattle. He finished his can and got up to take another. He was glad to sit back down again; the hit of tobacco from his last drag had made him feel slightly ill. More joints came his way, and he inhaled from them all, some with the harsh kick of tobacco, some with a smooth caress of Leb. When half of the nugget has been consumed, Pete's brother wrapped it back up in the cellophane and put it back in his jacket pocket.

  He looked to his left and saw trilby girl smiling at him. It looked as if she was waiting for him to say something. "Excuse me" he said, "Did you say something?"

  "I was just wondering if you...."

  So she is speaking to me! thought Theo. This pleased him enormously. An older girl, talking to him! But whilst he processed this information, he forgot to listen to the rest of her sentence. And then she was laughing; her head tipping back so her trilby lifted off her head as its rim touched the wall. This reminded Theo of something he had once seen in a Laurel and Hardy film and he supressed a giggle. Did she finish her sentence? Theo wasn't sure so he nodded his head enthusiastically and said something back to her. But what did he say? All he could remember was the final word of the sentence: "stock", which he seemed to have said in an enquiring manner, as he could see a question mark in his head. Did he really speak or did he just think he did? If so, what was the rest of the sentence? Stock. He couldn't remember. He thought about asking the trilby girl if he had said anything, but she seemed to have disappeared. Theo was feeling confused. It was quite funny though, so he laughed some more.

  He heard talk about making a move to the pub, the time now being eight o'clock. Theo wasn't sure if this information was being told to him direct, or if he was just picking up from other people's conversations. He looked around and saw Pete putting his jacket on. Oh right! It is time to leave! Where did he put his new jacket? Did I actually take it off, he wondered? He looked at his arm to establish that he was still wearing it. That's one less chore, he thought. But now his head felt incredibly heavy, like it had been filled with lead through the earholes. The effort of keeping it above his shoulders was provin
g to be too much to take. He needed to be horizontal, now. He saw an unused beanbag in the corner of the room, and with much effort managed to make it off the hard floor and onto the horizontal world of the beanbag. His friends asked if he was okay.

  "Fine, fine," he answered "Just need relax. You chap ahead, I'll follow minute". Pete said this was cool and asked him to make sure he closed the front door behind him on the way out. He listened as his friends walked down the stairs, their chat and laughter gradually diminishing as they reached the ground floor. "See you in a bit then," he said to the now empty room. Then he heard the front door slam and he was totally alone. "See you in a bit".

  Maybe the Leb and the booze wasn't such a good idea after all. He lay as far back on the beanbag as he could and looked at the ceiling. The PIL album had finished, thank God. He found it a bit dark and sinister and it wasn't helping his mood at all. To redress the balance he started singing Three Steps to Heaven quietly to himself.

  The lightness of the melody banished the discordant PIL album from his mind. His singing gave way to simple humming. This seemed to help keep the nausea at bay. He sat alone in silence for five minutes or so, the molten lead gradually oozing from his ears. Once his head felt its natural weight again, he lifted himself out of the beanbag and stumbled towards the record collection to find something to listen to as he readied himself to join the others in the pub. Most of the records were rock or heavy metal - Iron Maiden, Thin Lizzy, ZZ Top, Rush, Genesis, Kiss. But there was some punk stuff too, including No More Heroes by The Stranglers. Jon had this album and Theo really liked it. He picked it up and looked at the track listing: 'I Feel Like A Wog', 'Bitching', 'Dagenham Dave', 'English Towns'...

  He remembered particularly liking 'English Towns', so he lined up the song on the stereo and helped himself to the last can of Hofmeister. The effects of the Red Leb had more or less worn off, and he was relieved to have his thirst for lager back again. He turned the volume up to full and glugged from the can. A single muffled snare drum beat filled the room and then the song began: juddering bass line, roaming keyboards - melodic and fearsome at the same time. And then Hugh Cornwell started to growl. He couldn't quite make out what he was singing about, presumably how boring life in English towns could be. The song ended with the refrain No love in a thousand girls repeated again and again.

  A thousand girls. That seemed an awful lot, even for a rock band. How Theo would love to be with a thousand girls! But would he even talk to that many girls in his entire life? He doubted it, the way he was going.

  The song came to an end. He lifted the needle off the record, finished the can of Hofmeister and ran down the three flights of stairs and out into the warm night air, forgetting to close the front door behind him.

  -

  By the time he reached the White Hart he felt remarkably sober. Maybe this was what was meant by "pissing in the wind" - the weed and the alcohol cancelled each other out. But he was happy to start at zero again, now that the second part of the evening was about to begin. Conscious of the fact that he'd been drinking other people's booze all evening he found his friends and offered to buy a round. After taking orders, he fought his way to the bar and ordered six pints, which he managed to ferry from the bar to his friends' table in two shifts. The bands usually came on stage at 9.30pm, so after the first round had been drunk, Theo and his friends made their way to the backroom where the gigs took place.

  When they got to there, a dozen or so girls were sat cross-legged in front of the stage. More people stood in groups, drinking and waiting for the band to start. Instruments were already in place on the small stage, a sound-check having been performed an hour or so ago. Andy Ross was the first to climb on to the stage. He picked up his guitar and tuned it, not stopping to acknowledge the audience in any way. Low-level applause came from elements of the crowd. Then the drummer and bassist jumped up onto the stage and busied themselves with their instruments. Then, with a cigarette in one hand and a pint of lager in the other, August Wells took to the stage. He was wearing his traditional checked-shirt/drainpipe jeans combo. His hair looked a little more unkempt than normal, but he greeted his fellow band-mates with a warm smile and then spoke into the mic:

  "Good evening ladies and gentlemen". There were some wolf-whistles and jeers from the crowd, along with some random shouting and laughter from the back of the room.

  August continued: "We are The New England Planets. Right then, let's proceed in a swift and orderly manner, so we can all get home by 11 o'clock to watch The Guns of Navarone on ITV."

  There was laughter from the crowd, mainly from the female contingent. "This is a new one, written by Andy. It's called Paradise".

  August nodded at the drummer, who clicked his sticks together four times and off they went. The song was loud and fast, and like with most songs when you hear them for the first time, Theo couldn't really make out much of a melody. The song was over quickly and was received with not over-enthusiastic applause. The Planets continued, mixing cover versions with their own songs. The originals tended to be tentative and mid-paced, with long intros and guitar solos. Cover versions included 'The Logical Song' by Supertramp and a ten-minute long version of 'Sloop John B' by The Beach Boys. They also played some more up-to-date covers including recent chart hits by Big Country and U2.

  The band was a tight unit, and the guitar playing by both Andy and August was exceptional in Theo's opinion. But he wasn't so impressed by the rhythm section - there seemed to be little spark coming from either bassist or drummer. The bassist spend much of his time with his back to the audience, his head hunched over so he could better see the fretboard of his too-big bass. And the drummer just sat there - no expression on his face and no movement at all. How dull! You don't have to act like Animal from The Muppets, but at least move a little bit, let the audience know how much fun you are having. Theo was sure he'd do a better job of drumming for the Planets than the damp squib that was Justin.

  After they'd been playing for about thirty minutes or so, they took a short break, taking gulps from pint glasses and sparking up cigarettes, whilst some of the audience went to the bar. Theo had about half a pint left, but he accepted the offer of another one. He asked Pete to get some crisps while he was at it, as he was feeling unusually hungry.

  Pete came back with two pints and six packets of Nick Naks; three Worcester sauce flavour and three cheesy. They tucked in to the crisps with venom as the band readied themselves to continue. August took to the mic again: "This next song is by one of my favourite bands. We haven't played it before, I hope you like it."

  Off mic he shouted out "1-2-3-4" and then a barrage of sound hit the room. Descending power chords blared out, backed up by snare and cymbal assaults. Over the top, August's high-pitched lead guitar chimed the same descending notes as Andy's rhythm guitar. Theo recognised this powerhouse of a song immediately, but what was it? A punk classic surely, by someone like The Undertones, or The Ruts.

  Then Wells started to sing: Oh you silly thing...

  Of course! It was Silly Thing by The Sex Pistols! Theo had this on single; it was one of his favourites. The song was originally on The Great Rock n Roll Swindle, and had been released as a single by Steve Jones and Paul Cook after the Pistols broke up.

  Theo couldn't believe that this was one of August's favourite songs too! It was one of the Pistols best songs in his opinion, and it seemed to have been all but forgotten. Trust August Wells to give it the credit it deserved! Another verse and another chorus flew by and then the song moved into its middle eight. This part of the song was spoken rather than sung and Wells stopped playing his guitar and pushed it onto his back. He knelt down by the side of the mic stand, holding on to it with one hand. Theo had seen Iggy Pop do something similar on The Old Grey Whistle Test. Wells was now at the same level as some of the girls in the front row, some of whom screamed or pretended to faint. He continued to speak the lyrics whilst eying the girls and occasionally leaning out into the audience to high-five an admire
r.

  After the middle eight, the song exploded into the same power chords as the intro, and Wells brought the guitar back round and riffed over the top; a siren filling the packed room. Sweat poured from him, and he appeared to be wrapped entirely in his own world, his eyes closed, his fingers communing effortlessly with the fretboard. Oh to be on that stage! Oh to be August Wells!

  The song came to an end and Andy took the mic and said "Thanks for that", unplugged his guitar and walked off.

  Wells and the rest of the band accepted the generous applause and took swigs from their drinks, as the house lights came up.

  "They were pretty good tonight" Pete said, watching the crowd slowly dissipating.

  Theo nodded his head in agreement, too star-struck to comment further. He gathered his thoughts and offered to go to the bar, saying he'd pick up a few more packets of the strangely addictive Nik Nacks while he was at it.

  He made his way through the crowded room. And there she was, in front of him at the bar. Of course she'd be here tonight. Of course, of course. Chewing gum girl is here tonight, of course, of course.

  She wore a black plastic mac and a black beret, and she was (or appeared to be) alone. Theo watched as she looked to her left and right, presumably searching for her friend from the other night. She then looked around and her eyes met Theo's. She looked away too quickly, the trace of a smile on her face. And Theo knew that he might be in with a chance.

  There was movement at the bar; punters got served and spaces presented themselves. Chewing gum girl took her place at the bar. Another space became available next to her. Theo had no option but to take it. He moved up to the bar and stood next to her. He could smell the PVC of her black raincoat. He moved his head cautiously to the left to look at her, ready to smile if need be, trembling inside, but she was looking the other way. Next he heard "Yes mate?"

  The barman was looking at him. "Um, I think she was first" he said, nodding towards chewing gum girl.

  "Yes love?" said the barman. Chewing gum girl looked round at him briefly before placing her order.

  "Pint of lager shandy please."

  She's a drinker, thank God!

  "Are you over eighteen?" asked the barman.

  "Yes."

  He looked unconvinced. Chewing gum girl held his gaze. Theo saw an opportunity to strike:

  "She is. She's in the same year as me."

  Then he realised that he's just admitted that they were both at school, and therefore more than likely under age.

  The barman looked at them both and smiled. He went away shaking his head. Theo thought he had well and truly blown it, but then the barman started to pull a pint.

  "Ha!" said Theo, not knowing what else to do.

  Chewing gum girl smiled in a resigned fashion and looked away.

  He had to talk now, or he never would. Luckily, the music in the pub was loud, so if he projected his voice just right, only chewing gum girl alone will hear his feeble efforts, and not the rest of the pub: "So do you live around here?"

  She looked at him. "Atworth."

  Theo had never heard of it. It could be in Yorkshire for all he knew.

  "Oh, right. That's near here yeah?"

  "About four miles away."

  "Oh right."

  This was how things usually went for Theo - the girl faced a barrage of mundane questions and then wandered off to talk to someone else.

  But then the barman came back with her pint. And she did not wander off. Theo ordered himself a pint and sparked up a Consulate. He offered her one but she shook her head no. A smoker and a drinker would have been too much to hope for. Theo asked her name; "Martine" came the reply. Theo asked where her friend from the other night was "Over there with some bloke," she said, her eyes rolling as she spoke.

  Now he had nothing to say. Really nothing to say. He felt his silence projecting towards her, a force that was bound to repel her, but she stood her ground. Not only that but she smiled at him. The smile was generous and true and full of expectation. She really was undeniably pretty underneath that black beret. She took a sip from her drink.

  "Would you like to go outside?" She asked.

  Theo was not sure about outside. There was no music out there. All mistakes get amplified. He'd rather be in here with the noise and the cigarette smoke and the music and the chat. But then again; outside with her, with chewing gum girl - that's got to be worth trying.

  "Sure."

  So they went outside to the fountain and sat on its stone surround. There was faint music coming from the pub, enabling Theo to relax a bit. They sat in silence for what felt like an age, and then Martine hocked some phlegm into her mouth and spat it into the fountain. Theo was impressed by her trajectory. He did the same. They had a spitting competition to see who could spit the furthest. Martine won.

  "Can I have a cigarette now?"

  This girl gets better and better thought Theo. He gave her a Consulate and took one himself. She put her hand in his. It was warm and clammy. Blood rushed to his groin.

  They finished their drinks and cigarettes.

  "Do you have a pen?"

  "No."

  "Well my dad's number is in the book. It's K Walker, College Road Atworth."

  She looked down the road. There was a car coming. She pecked him on the cheek.

  "Here comes dad. See you soon."

  With that she walked towards the car. Theo watched as she got in to the rear seat. The car turned around and drove off, but she didn't look out the rear window this time.