Another Life (12 page)

There’s a flight of stairs, walls painted black, and then another door. I push on it and it opens into an enormous space. Wow. Two boxing rings, circled by mats and those huge punchbags
that hang from the ceiling, a free weights area, some bikes and things. The sound of thwack, thwack, thwack as fists hit the bags. And the smell of stale sweat and beer.

‘Hello, dearie,’ says a lady, who’s got her own little office just to the right of the door. ‘Want to join?’ She looks me up and down. ‘Complete beginner, I
take it?’

I nod. ‘Yeah.’

Up close I realise that she’s quite old, but she’s made an effort by dyeing her hair and wearing false eyelashes and really tight jeans.

‘I’m Sylvia,’ she says. ‘What do you want, group or individual? Most of the beginners are younger than you, so you might want to start off with some
one-to-one.’

‘Um, yeah, right, OK.’

She passes me a form. ‘Fill that in for me, dearie. You’re not from round here, are you?’

‘Just moved here,’ I say.

‘But I’ve met you before, haven’t I? Now let me see. . .’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t remember when it was. But I’ve definitely seen you here
before.’

‘Not me,’ I say, trying to sound confident. She must be thinking of Ty. Whoops.

I fill in her form, inventing an address for Kyle, but giving my own mobile number and my surname. Minimise the lies.

I dig out twenty-five pounds from my wallet. ‘Is that enough for a lesson?’

‘It is, but you don’t have to pay now, darling. Wait until the lesson. Sunday suit you? At 10 am?’

I’ve never actually got up before 12 on a Sunday (at home, that is, one of the inhumane things about boarding school is that they wake you up at 8 am at the weekend – even earlier at
Allingham Priory, because we had to go to Mass).

But I can make an exception for this.

‘Do I need to get any equipment?’ I ask, and she says, ‘You are flush, aren’t you, dear? No, don’t worry, we’ve got everything here.’

That seems to be it. She gives me another searching look up and down, and then snaps her fingers and says, ‘Ty! Little Ty Lewis! That’s who you remind me of.’

I try to look as blank as possible.

‘Oh yeah, never heard of him.’

She’s beaming. ‘Knew it’d come to me. Little Ty. You don’t know him? What a coincidence, you boys are like two peas in a pod.’

Not any more, I think, remembering how thin Ty looked this morning, the dark shadows under his eyes, the short hair. I probably look more like Ty used to than he does himself.

I look round the room. ‘He comes here a lot?’

She shakes her head. ‘Not any more. They moved away, the whole family. Terrible thing. His gran . . . well, I heard she died. Not surprised.’

‘Oh, right. Never heard of him.’

She cackles. ‘Well, Kyle Stone, we’ll see you Sunday. And we’ll find out if you’re a better fighter than Ty Lewis.’

‘S
tark raving mad,’ says Oscar.

‘Impressive,’ says Lily.

It’s Saturday night and we couldn’t be arsed to go to a party (although we had, between us, invites to three) so we’re lying on the floor of my bedroom, getting stoned.
Mum’s still away and Dad’s at the office.

‘I’ll be late,’ he said. ‘Don’t wait up for me.’

It’s never struck me before, but it’s a bit odd, working late on a Saturday. Could my dad have a secret life – a lover, maybe?

I wonder how upset my mum would be if she found out. And how would I feel if they broke up?

‘Run it past me one more time,’ says Oscar. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Well, y’know, it seemed like a good idea, to find out more about Ty, sort of immerse myself in his life – his life before all the prison and stuff. And I’m exploring my
roots as well. My dad’s from round there, but he never tells me anything about it.’

‘You’ve got your own life, Archie. Why’d you want to go and get beaten up by a load of East End boys?’

‘I dunno.’ I exhale and watch the smoke curl up toward the sloping ceiling. I’m laughing. ‘Maybe I’ll beat them up.’

‘Awesome,’ says Lily. She leans towards Oscar, tickles his cheek. ‘You’d do the same if you were a real man. Why don’t you go along with Archie?’

Lily thinks I’m a real man! Wow!

‘Nah,’ says Oscar, and I shake my head.

‘I’ve gotta do this on my own,’ I say. ‘I’m going undercover.’

‘I’ve got better things to do with my time,’ says Oscar. ‘Unlike you and Archie, I’m not being spoon-fed through my GCSEs.’ He closes his eyes. Oscar never
gets giggly and silly when stoned, like Lily and me. He aims more at a zen-like serenity.

Lily stretches her arms over her head. She’s wearing a skimpy vest and I can see her whole midriff when she does that. She’s absolutely gorgeous, but – luckily, I think –
the weed knocks out the need for a preventative run down the Bakerloo line.

‘I’m sooo happy. I’m leaving those bitches behind me!’ Lily sings. She flings her arms around me. ‘I’m going to be with my lovely Archie-bear, all day and all
night.’

‘Woo . . . steady on, Lil,’ I say. I might be stoned, but I’m not
that
stoned.

Oscar sighs. ‘Cop out,’ he says.

‘You’re just jealous,’ she sings.

Oscar raises an eyebrow.

‘How did you persuade your mum again?’ I ask.

‘A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Skipping breakfast, throwing up after supper, refusing to talk to her, failing three mocks. . .’

‘Tut, tut,’ says Oscar.

‘And then I left my diary lying around, and it was all about the pressure at that school, the bitchy girls, the competition to get ten A*s and how I couldn’t bear it, I
couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t
bear
it. . .’

‘And she gave you a free pass to Butler’s.’

‘Whee! Whoo! Lucky, lucky me!’

Lucky me
, I think. Having Lily there at Butler’s will be fantastic. I’ll be instantly Mr Super-popular.

‘I can’t wait,’ I say.

Lily pins me to the floor. It’s the nicest feeling ever.

She stares into my eyes. ‘Archie, you are so sweet, I might have to eat you all up.’

Oh Jesus.
Lambeth North
. I’m not as stoned as I thought I was.

Go away, Oscar
.

‘I love you, Archie.’

She kisses me right on the mouth, taking me by surprise. Her mouth is soft – so soft – and wet and our teeth clash.

‘Waterloo.’ Oh God! I said it out loud!

‘You want the loo?’ Lily’s laughing too much to go on kissing me.

‘For God’s sake,’ says Oscar. ‘I’m going.’

I don’t know why he’s so cross. Nor does Lily.

‘Hey, Oscar,’ she says. ‘Group hug!’

‘I’m going,’ says Oscar again, ‘and so should you, Lily. Archie, you need your sleep if you’re really getting up to go boxing tomorrow morning. You’ll want to
be reasonably sharp.’

‘Maybe I won’t bother,’ I say. My hand’s on the smooth skin of Lily’s back and it feels like heaven.

But Lily says, ‘Oh yes you are. . .’ and Oscar grabs her arm and yanks her to her feet.

‘C’mon, Lil,’ he says, and she smiles up at him and says, ‘I love you both so much.’

It’s only 11 pm, and Dad’s not back yet. They disappear down the stairs – Lily staggering and giggling and Oscar propping her up. I log onto Skype. Zoe’s online, so I
call her. I’ve kind of neglected her recently.

She fills up the screen, all dark hair and toffee skin and a red vest. She’s so attractive that I wish I could just transport myself to her room. I wonder if one day that’ll be
possible through the internet? It’d be so cool – also good for the environment – but much harder to avoid people. And stuff like chatroulette would be really disgusting.

‘Hey, stranger,’ she says.

‘Hey, Zoe,’

‘How’s it going? Are you home for half term?’

I feel bad. I haven’t been in touch at all since I left school. Claire’s not told her a thing, it’s clear. Briefly, I fill her in – except I leave out the drugs,
Ty’s trial and the whole prison stuff, so it’s a short enough story. I left boarding school because my parents were missing me, I tell her. I’m working really hard at my new
school. Maybe I can come and see her some weekend soon.

And then she tells me about her school and her life and athletics and stuff, and I let my eyes glaze over and start thinking that Claire and I have loads more in common than Zoe and I do, but Ty
and Zoe have athletics to talk about and maybe we could all just swap and they could go running together.

I have my hand down my trousers, I admit. Surely that’s the whole point of Skype?

‘I actually won the 1500 metres,’ said Zoe, ‘which was pretty amazing. Will you tell Joe?’

‘Yeah, right,’ I say,

‘I saw him, you know. He broke a UK record.’

‘You saw him?’

‘Yeah, it was definitely him. But he looked really different, and they were calling him Luke something.’

‘Mmm, Zoe . . . actually . . . about that. . .’

And then someone’s hands are over my eyes.

‘Argh! What the—’

Lily is laughing her head off.

‘What’s going on?’ says Zoe.

Lily leans forward to the keyboard. ‘Hello!’ she says, waving like mad.

Zoe’s head is doing that slow jerky Skypey thing, and Lily starts imitating her.

‘Who’s that?’ says Zoe.

‘I’m Lily and he’s mine, all mine! Bye-bye, bumpkin!’

‘Lily . . . Zoe . . . you can’t—’

Lily switches off Zoe’s outraged face. Oh bum.

‘Go away, Lily! I thought you went ages ago.’

‘Well, we went downstairs and then I was hungry, so we decided to make you a snack, Archie, wasn’t that nice of us? And then Oscar’s mum rang and there’s some crisis with
Marcus, so he had to go and I thought I’d come and find you again, because we don’t want boring old girly girl on the Skype keeping my Archie from me, do we?’

‘That was Zoe! My sort-of girlfriend!’

I ought to be cross with her, but my head’s all muzzy and she’s messing my hair and nuzzling my neck. And let’s face it, I haven’t been exactly thinking of Zoe much
myself recently, what with Paige and Lily and the whole tricky question of Claire, which I’m not thinking about either.

‘Forget it, Archie, forget her. How can you have a relationship with someone who doesn’t even live in London? What about that girl Paige, who seems to be stalking you on
Facebook?’ She’s discovered my flies. ‘Oh! Naughty Archie!’

OK, this is what I’ve dreamed of, but still. . .

Lily’s taken her top off, so I can see her bra. This is brilliant, but there’s something bothering me . . . I can’t quite work out what. . .

‘Come on, Lil,’ I say. ‘You’re stoned.’ She’s pulling my T-shirt up and over my head.

‘Leave it out, Lily,’ I say. I have no idea at all where I’m getting my self-control from. Maybe it’s performance anxiety.

‘She launches herself at me – ‘Archieeee!’ – and we sprawl onto the floor with a massive crash.

‘Ugh . . . owww. . .’ My head bangs against the side of the desk. But still, it’s a good feeling, lying here with Lily writhing against me. It’s just that . . .
there’s something. . .

No! The loudest, highest, most awful noise in the world suddenly goes off in my ear. What the hell? Have my parents fixed up some sort of naked girl alarm in my room?

‘What’s that?’ quavers Lily.

I’m wriggling back into my clothes. I’m just hopping around with two legs squashed into the same sleeve – yes, I’ve got my T-shirt mixed up with my jeans – when my
dad erupts into my room, yelling his head off.

‘You stupid idiot! You could’ve set the house on fire!’

‘What?’

‘The smoke alarm! Can’t you hear it? Jesus, Archie!’

‘I was just coming. . .’

‘You could’ve burned the house down! What do you think happens if you leave a piece of bread under the grill on full blast?’

‘Uh . . . I dunno. . .’

‘It bursts into flames, you moron! It turns into a blackened bit of charcoal and smoke pours from it and—’ someone is bashing at the front door ‘—then the fire
brigade turns up.’

He turns and crashes down the stairs again. Lily is laughing her head off and I’m trying not to laugh . . . but. . .

‘Come on,’ I tell her, ‘get up. Get dressed. You’ve got to go.’

‘Oh, Archie. . .’

‘You nearly burned the house down!’ Why does this seem hilarious? ‘Imagine if we’d had to jump out the window!’ I say, and we’re both shrieking with
laughter.

‘I was making you a snack!’

‘And now my dad thinks we were. . .’

‘Oh, come on, Archie. . .’

We’ve just about got dressed, when Dad marches up the stairs again.

‘Right, Lily, down the stairs,’ he orders.

‘Aaaw, Dad. . .’ I plead.

Dad’s forehead is wrinkled into a perma-frown and if I had any sense I’d shut up right now.

‘Can’t Lily stay over?’

‘Come on, Lily,’ says Dad. ‘I’d better give you a lift home.’

Lily gets up. She’s a bit shaky on her feet, and Dad barks, ‘Give her a hand, Archie. We don’t want her falling down the stairs.’

Lily can’t stop laughing, and that makes me laugh, despite Dad’s silent fury beaming into the back of my head.

Downstairs is freezing – all the doors and windows wide open – and still pretty smoky. The smell is disgusting.

‘I’ll walk Lily home,’ I tell Dad. ‘Maybe I should stay there tonight while you decontaminate this place.’

He points to the living room. He’s got his grimmest face on.

‘You’re staying here.’

And he bundles Lily outside and into the Prius. Huh.

By the time he comes back I’ve started watching his box set of
The Wire
. Maybe we can bond over it. I might need to find some subtitles, though – no one seems to be speaking
English.

Dad glides into the room, picks up the remote and freezes the screen – probably a good thing, because apart from a vague idea that it was about drugs, criminals, cops and lawyers, I had no
idea what was going on.

And then he starts.

I am a loser. I am a waste of space. I am pissing away his money. This is exactly why he and Mum sent me to boarding school. What the hell do I think I am doing? Am I going to screw up this
chance, like I’ve messed up everything else?