Little Spirit

  ‘Still some way to go?’

  ‘Don’t worry the car crash was round the next bend. I considered reneging on my promise of going home alone. But unbelievably the next shark swam in and tried exactly the same thing the first had.’

  ‘He dragged you onto the dance floor?’

  ‘He tried but it didn’t feel right. And when he pulled my hand to his crotch I knew it was wrong. He laughed. But not at me – someone behind me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The first lad.’

  ‘No. What did you do?’

  ‘I wanted to die of embarrassment. But I hid it and went to touch the new lad’s face. I dug my nails into his ear and grabbed a nipple through his shirt. I told him exactly what I thought of him.’

  ‘Good for you Amy.’

  ‘Then I shoved him backwards and stormed to the exit but the first lad tried to stop me.’

  ‘Crikey. Were you scared?’

  ‘Terrified. As he bent forwards I threw the heel of my hand into his nose. I didn’t stop till I got back here.’

  ‘You could have been followed.’

  ‘Doubt it. It was humiliating for them as well as me.’

  ‘I bet. What then?’

  ‘Nothing. Calvin was lovely to me but I couldn’t tell him what happened. God I never felt so dirty. I’ve not been back there and like I said it’s kinda put me off men.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Katherine said. ‘I’m really impressed how you handled it.’

  ‘Well that makes one of us at least,’ Amy said. ‘Nice to have told someone though.’

  ‘So in light of all you’ve just said where does that leave you?’

  ‘I want my self-esteem raised as much as ever. And,’ she said looking away, ‘I do wonder where Danny fits into all this.’

  ‘Who knows. We can’t control his feelings. But as your self-appreciation rises you’ll be able to more clearly understand your feelings for him. Then when you’re ready you’ll attract the type of man you want into the relationship you want.’

  Wednesday 28th September 1983

  On Wednesday evening Danny, Calvin and Raphael crashed through the front door.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Danny asked stopping short on the landing.

  Amy, red faced and dripping in sweat said, ‘Been running with Katherine. What’s got you lot so excited?’

  ‘We’ve got to thank John,’ Calvin said. ‘We’re going to such a cool studio.’

  ‘Hi darling, that’s great.’ Katherine appeared with shower-wet hair.

  ‘You should ring to thank John,’ Raphael said blatantly ogling her in the frayed towel scarcely covering her.

  ‘After I’ve dressed, Raphael.’ Turning to Calvin she said, ‘Can I borrow you a moment?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Katherine pushed Calvin and followed him into his room. Kicking the door shut she said, ‘Put your arms in the air babe.’

  He looked perplexed but raised his arms like a cowboy at gunpoint. She pulled his T-shirt over his head.

  Minutes later Katherine emerged from Calvin’s room and phoned John as Amy made her way from the shower.

  Everyone decided to go to the pub so in her room Amy tried some outfits sure she’d look good if she held a decent posture. Beginning to feel proud of her evident curves Amy warmed to the sway of her hips arguing that they looked big only on account of her relatively small waist – well from some angels at least. She applied makeup as she’d seen Katherine do.

  She found Katherine and Calvin ready to leave.

  ‘You look nice,’ Katherine said appreciatively but Amy sensed she’d got something wrong somewhere in her ensemble. She put it to the back of her mind when none of the lads commented.

  In the pub Katherine asked, ‘What’s the studio like?’

  ‘It’s like a space ship,’ Danny said. ‘The carpet’s black, there’s soundproof upvc rooms and diodes flashing everywhere.’

  ‘Ze important thing is we listened to ze stuff they’ve recorded previously and it sounded pretty okay. It’s not our style but it’s better than ze other studios.’

  Friday 30th September 1983

  On the same Friday morning as the girls left for Cumbria, the lads arrived at the studio before the owner. When Tom Tilson showed they rushed the gear in. Renting by the hour every moment had to be used productively. Raphael started tuning new drum heads. Soon Calvin and Danny had readied themselves.

  Meanwhile in Victoria Coach Station Katherine and Amy boarded the National Express to Cumbria. The day before Amy had asked Katherine if she’d got anything visually wrong after their previous trip to the pub. What followed had been a lesson in makeup. Katherine explained colours and application. Under her guidance Amy learned that different skin tones benefited from different colours. With instructions to create different looks for different situations Amy sought to work with and beautify the characteristic tones she had rather than copy Katherine’s colours and styles. Today, having kept up her naked mantra and with fresh makeup Amy felt confident amongst the half full coach of over forties who spoke with distinctive yet unfamiliar northern accents.

  Escaping London took a frustrating age. After joining the motorways Amy started thinking the journey would never end.

  Both girls managed to sleep for a while but Amy woke somewhere on the M6 with numbness and aching back. Standing she walked a partial length of the bus. Though not wanting to sit back down she had to take the weight of her left leg, now fizzing with pins and needles.

  Hours later they hauled into motorway services near Kendal just inside the Cumbrian border. Amy had never been so far north. Getting off the bus she found the air crisp with a clarity she’d never experienced in London. The dark clouds suggested a later hour than her watch showed. Katherine took her hand and to get the circulation going again they skipped across the coach park, laughing all the way.

  Back on the bus the laughter stopped. ‘Just another couple of hours,’ Katherine said without smiling.

  The bus drove from the M6 towards Windermere. For Amy the terrain became more extraordinary as they continued towards Keswick. Mountains rose aggressively out of valleys. In the west the remaining sun sliced its way through bruised clouds that threatened torrential rain, thunder and rage. Katherine appeared unmoved. Amy couldn’t understand but didn’t want to peel her eyes from the view.

  After passing the picturesque slate buildings of Keswick they rounded one final, giant mountain. From there the hills became grassy, lower and rolling.

  Before long the sea appeared. Amy should have guessed not to expect turquoise tranquillity. Like the weather in the Lake District the sea swelled, disturbed with power. Ragged, brown in colour having churned up sand from its floor it punched and lashed the rocks exploding into furious white spray.

  As they came closer to Katherine’s hometown the houses turned from fine old Georgian to rendered council. The distant cliffs reached the horizon, where a chemical factory with two metal chimneys tirelessly raced fat swirling worms of smoke into the sky.

  ‘We’ll catch another bus to Mum’s from the station,’ Katherine said as they descended the final road into the town’s centre.

  Amy had assumed someone would pick them up by car.

  Soon they stood queuing in the bus station watching one faded red Leyland double-decker follow another.

  ‘You okay?’ Amy asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Katherine sighed. She looked kindly at her but Amy sensed apprehension. ‘How you doing?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  But in a rough bus station having left the security of the coach she felt uneasy. What had happened to Katherine? Despite having come to support her, Amy wanted a friend. Having dressed for London, Amy felt the thickly accented people staring. Unlike her companion who seemed to have exited, Amy knew her eyes would be wide with sensory overwhelm.

  Katherine tied her hair back and slumped. Her normally piercing deep brown eyes suggested half day closing. Fixing her eyes on nothing but the far
wall of the station she waited for the bus to arrive.

  Despite wanting to leave, Amy’s relief ended before it began when the bus spluttered up to the railing of cracked paint. The doors sprang open and out poured a nostril-insulting blend of stale cigarette smoke and rotten sweat. Like many of the passengers the driver looked rock hard, like he’d just as sooner kick your head in than sell you a ticket.

  ‘Alright if we sit downstairs?’ Katherine asked flatly.

  Amy nearly asked how far it’d be to walk. ‘I guess so.’

  Once seated, the bus pulled away and Katherine reanimated slightly. ‘Remember it’s only a couple of nights.’

  Amy nodded, fighting the urge to gawp at passengers. She listened to their unique language. The locals tagged ‘eh’ onto almost every sentence as if making it a question. The guttural vocal sound seemed to be generated high in the throat at the back of the mouth. Many of the words seemed foreign but for the frequent use of four-letter words.

  The bus skirted the town centre, which looked in part to be quite nice before delving back into council greyness, ‘The bowels of the town,’ Katherine had said. Oh my god, Amy thought sensing the Lakeland fells separating them from the rest of the world. Trapped in the back of beyond she reminded herself as Katherine had done, It’s only a couple of nights.

  * * *

  Sitting behind his newly skinned drums Raphael loved the sound until Tom recorded him. In the control room he detested the lameness – surely a result of Tom’s mic placement. Tom suggested they record but Raphael refused. Danny helped reposition mics around the kit under Raphael’s supervision.

  In the control room Tom babbled to Calvin how drum machines give instantly gratifying sounds and don’t make mistakes or complain. ‘They’ll take over,’ he said as if he couldn’t wait for that day.

  The drums took most of the day-long session. From the moment they started everyone’s concentration stayed focused. Calvin kept out the way when he could, not knowing how to take Tom’s frustration which wound him up.

  That said Tom changed his tune once Raphael came to record his parts saying he’d never worked with a drummer as accurate or expressive. With drums and percussion down they started on bass; thus began the next disagreement. Tom insisted Calvin plug the bass directly into the desk, bypassing his amp altogether.

  Tom said, ‘That’s how The Beatles worked and if it’s good enough for McCartney it’s certainly good enough for you lot; like we’d ever get that thing sounding decent.’ He nodded to Calvin’s old rig.

  Danny and Raphael eventually conceded to Tom’s stubborn argument. Calvin let his rudeness pass but wouldn’t forget it.

  Getting on with things Calvin played so much his fingers throbbed. When they called it a day he sat back thinking again of Katherine and Amy.

  * * *

  Katherine knew she’d outgrown her birthplace as the bus drove deeper into the estate from where she’d fledged.

  Feeling selfish for bringing Amy who looked like a rabbit in headlights Katherine reminded her, ‘My mum’s called Barbara and my dad’s Alan.’

  ‘I know,’ her friend said. ‘And your sisters are Sarah and Jayne.’

  ‘They’ve moved out so hopefully we won’t see them.’

  Nearing the bus stop they stood to leave; Katherine spotted her mum waiting.

  Finally Amy got a sense of welcome. Leaving the bus after Katherine, Amy looked upon a blonde lady in tight jeans, white jumper and stilettos smiling. But as they stepped towards her, Barbara’s smile broke, her chin quivered and tears tumbled.

  ‘Oh my beautiful Katherine,’ she cried cupping her daughter’s face. Katherine looked at Amy apologetically who, not knowing what to do, pulled Katherine’s fallen bag from the curb and waited thinking the air smelt soapy.

  Katherine would soon explain that the prevailing trade winds from the Irish Sea carried the chemical plant’s detergent fumes across the estate. People here had given up on their gardens as even weeds struggled to grow.

  ‘It’s okay mum, I’m here now.’

  ‘I’m so sorry love, I’m a terrible mother.’

  Amy admired her own fingernails thinking they looked good since she’d started manicuring them.

  ‘Oh God sorry, you must be Amy,’ Barbara croaked in her direction.

  By the look of her tear ruined makeup Amy thought she had a closer family resemblance to Alice Cooper than Katherine.

  ‘Shall we get going?’ Katherine said after a soppy introduction.

  ‘Can we get a drink in the club first?’ Barbara said. ‘I don’t want your dad to see me all upset.’

  The working man’s club, great for cheesy cover bands and cheap drinks, lay across from the bus stop.

  The girls followed Barbara to the family room away from the areas exclusive to men drinking flat beer and shooting discouraging looks.

  Amy spent pennies buying drinks and joined Katherine and Barbara at a table that had seen too many games of bingo to imagine.

  ‘You left me Katherine,’ Barbara said blubbering again.

  ‘I didn’t leave you.’

  ‘You said you were going to France. That was months ago. I’ve not seen or heard of you since.’ Barbara’s next wave of tears came. ‘The worst thing is I don’t blame you.’

  Not knowing what to do with herself Amy watched mother berate herself and daughter dither. Though equally feminine, long limbed and curvaceous, Barbara looked yang compared to Katherine’s yin. They shared the same facial features but with opposing colours. Katherine’s near black eyes and hair suggested gypsy verve whilst Barbara’s blue eyes and blonde wavy hair brought to mind wholesome nurture. Where Katherine’s skin shone like gold Barbara’s fairness had geisha purity. Amy listened to their accents. Barbara’s sounded both working and middleclass.

  Things got worse before better. When asked why she’d been gone so long Katherine said, ‘He hates me.’

  ‘Who hates you?’ Barbara asked. When Katherine said nothing Barbara said, ‘Oh you’re exaggerating.’

  Amy hadn’t bought the notion of her dad hating her but Barbara’s reaction did nothing to convince her otherwise.

  ‘I don’t belong here,’ Katherine said.

  Barbara’s eyes widened. Then her chin wobbled again. ‘I know you don’t darling.’ She pushed her hands towards Katherine who took them in hers.

  Katherine sighed at Amy. Leaving one hand with her mum Katherine took Amy’s hand and mouthed, sorry.

  Shaking herself Barbara asked, ‘So, what have you been up to these last four months?’

  ‘Well …’ Katherine started.

  As two hours flipped by she recounted the full story. Barbara awed and shocked by Katherine’s experiences shook her head scarcely able to believe the deceptive spell her daughter had cast over Saint Tropez’s rich yachting fraternity. Amy noted the irony in Kate Bush’s deception song, Babooshka, playing in the background.

  Katherine illustrated the contrasting two worlds and how she’d felt treated in Cumbria. She talked of Calvin, his effect on her and her new life in London.

  Barbara emotionally at sixes and sevens sat back and looking towards the ceiling reiterated, ‘This place really isn’t you is it? I’m so lucky you came back at all.’

  Then she saw the time and panicked.

  * * *

  Outside gangs of clouds had descended bringing saturating drizzle. Barbara hoisted Katherine’s bag as Amy ran with mother and daughter along the street of dead gardens, boarded windows and clapped out cars. At the house Barbara used her hip to charge the rot-swollen wooden gate. She led the way up a concrete path to a concrete house. The front door looked like a hefty kick from Danny would take it off its hinges.

  ‘Come in Amy,’ Barbara said as she followed Katherine. The three of them stood sopping in the cramped hall, their hair plastering their faces. Amy saw what she could of the modest but obviously clean house. The thoroughly vacuumed carpets and wiped Formica surfaces spotless of dust put shame to the London flat.
The worst thing about the view sloughed in the living room. Alan, she presumed.

  The man didn’t look from the sport on the black and white TV. A dark skinned hand tested the weight of several cans of cheap lager before finding one containing, from what Katherine had previously suggested, his reason to be.

  ‘Look Alan, Katherine’s home,’ Barbara said.

  The lack of physical response chilled Amy who, not mistaking Alan’s contempt, now believed that Katherine had not aggrandised his feelings towards her. With eyes fixed on the TV he said, ‘Aye, a can see that eh.’

  ‘Hi dad,’ Katherine said.

  No reaction.

  ‘This is her friend Amy,’ Barbara said.

  Thanks but no thanks, Amy thought as she timidly watched Alan’s eye lids close and reopen – fixing on her. The hatred Alan had for Katherine turned upon her. She didn’t breathe under the gaze sinking to her chin, neck and chest freezing her as Alan’s contempt reordered forming contemptuous lust. She quivered exposed and humiliated as lecherous eyes dark, not like Katherine’s but, like the coal he’d mined swept her hips, descending her legs to her feet and back up the length of her body to her face.

  Amy’s mind went inwards wishing herself to London. She thought of Danny saddened by the unquestionable truth of how helpless he’d be in such a situation. She unwittingly visualised Danny with his big frame and natural leadership crumble the moment anyone crossed him or so much as called his bluff.

  Alan’s eyes closed. Amy prepared to breathe. Alan looked back at the TV.

  ‘Bonny lass eh?’ he said in a low growl that Amy barely heard.

  ‘Have you had anything to eat?’ Barbara asked him.

  Once more Alan’s eyes closed. Amy imagined them rolling behind their lids.

  ‘No Barbara,’ he said in near whisper. ‘Nowt. Yer never said when ye’d be back eh.’

  ‘I’m sorry we’re late. We just got caught up and … time ran away. I’ll put something on now.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’ll get me sell summit an git t’ bed. Gan t’ see about a job t’morra eh. Aye, on Saturday before ye ask.’

  Just then before anyone could move the front door burst open. A tall girl younger than Katherine with a dark pony tail pushed her way in.

  ‘Ooh, look what cat dragged in eh?’ she said looking at Katherine still dripping wet. ‘Yer never heard of an umbrella?’

  ‘Don’t be like that Jayne,’ Barbara said.