Influence (17 page)

The street
was flanked by particularly old looking buildings, Tudor fronted and ornate
lead lined windows, a little tourist trap she suspected. The narrow cobbled
street added to a sense of a previous time and her footsteps echoed ominously.
She suddenly felt like an impending victim in a gothic novel. As is if in
response to this thought, or in mockery of it, she heard footsteps join her own
some way back. She stopped and turned and saw nothing, she heard nothing, other
than far off drunken shouting. She considered the steps she heard may have been
her own reverberating in a strange way causing an illusion of sorts. She walked
on and again there were the other steps. She listened as she walked and took
note of the uniformity of pace of her own steps which backed up her strange
echo theory, but then that was abandoned as the other steps broke into an
unmistakeable run. The head of a shadow appeared down the street and Lizzie did
not wait to see what the rest of it looked like. She raced on spent legs across
the cobbles her hands were now free of her under arms and cutting holes in the
air as she threw every effort into her limbs. Her legs were sore and weary and
the end of the street was so far off, she raced in constant fear of tripping.
The other feet slapped hard on cobble and puddle alike and grew louder. She was
so tired she considered stopping, screaming and waiting for someone to help,
but she would not allow herself, she focussed on the light at the end of the
street, she kicked hard like she was trying desperately to swim upward from a
murky depth, her hands flailed from exhaustion reaching for the surface and the
air that would save her, the other steps were no longer an echo from behind
her, they were on her, she waited for a hand to grab at her, the light grew
wider, she could hear clothing being beaten by pumping arms behind her, beside
her and then light, blinding light.

The screech
of brakes and a hydraulic hiss filled Lizzie’s ears as she slid to a stop.
Headlights, at eye level, filled her world.

‘Jesus,
where did you come from? You trying to get yourself killed?’

Lizzie
shielded her eyes from the light and saw the bus driver hanging out of his side
window. She stepped backwards and to the side out of the focus of the beams.
She looked up at the sign at the top of the windscreen – REAPLACEMENT BUS
SERVICE. Almost as an afterthought she looked around, she was alone.

‘Are you
okay?’ concern now replaced anger in the driver’s voice.

‘Fine,’
Lizzie only just managed between short desperate breaths. ‘Thought. I had.
Missed you.’

‘What’s
with you lately?’

‘How’d you
mean?’

‘You’ve
been moping around the house for over a week now, usually curled up in a ball
with your headphones on. What gives? You worried about your results?’ asked
Janice flipping an egg over in the frying pan. Lizzie
was
worried about
her exam results but they were secondary at best on her list of concerns.

‘A bit, but
I figure there’s no point in worrying too much, there’s nothing I can do about
it now, the marks will be what they’re going to be and that’s that.’

‘What
happens if you bomb?’ asked Maggie pausing from blowing over her morning
coffee.

‘Mags!’

‘What? It’s
just a question, and she needs to be prepared. Hey I crashed in spectacular
form with my A levels and look what a well rounded individual I turned out to
be,’ Maggie gave a little courtesy.

‘If I turn
out to be half as wonderful as you Maggie I’ll be just delighted,’ Lizzie said
chuckling. ‘If I
do
bomb I’ll just have to deal with it, go through the
clearing system and try to find something, but I did apply to other schools
other than Oxford with less strict entries.’

‘She’s
applied to Edinburgh, but I have every faith I get to keep her here,’ Janice
pulled Lizzie into a hug with one arm, with the other carefully working the
handle of the pan.

‘Edinburgh?
So you’d be heading back over the border if it doesn’t go to plan? asked
Janice.

‘Aye, well
it just makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, it feels like home here,’ said
Lizzie more to Janice than Maggie, ‘but if it doesn’t work out I’d prefer to go
somewhere I know, at least a little. And besides I love Edinburgh and they have
a great Uni.’

‘Trips to
the festival, New Year, and all that fresh air, I think we could get used to
visiting couldn’t we Janice?’

‘We could,
but it aint gonna happen, she’s going to be studying at Britain’s marquee
institute of learning, just you wait and see,’ said Janice as she re-tied her
dressing gown cord which had slipped.

The
doorbell sounded. A rare event in the house given that all those present were
generally the only ones to occupy it, and besides none of them used the
doorbell since they each had keys. Janice went to answer and returned a few
moments later.

‘Visitor
for you Lizzie,’ a sheepish looking Amy followed Janice into the kitchen.

‘Hi Lizzie,
I’m really sorry just to appear out of the blue like this, but I didn’t have
your number,’ Amy flushed red feeling like an intruder.

‘Amy, hi,
no don’t be silly it’s nice to see you. I didn’t realise you knew, um –‘

‘Oh yeah,
sorry I asked Vic where you lived, I hope that was okay?’

‘Of course
it is, no problem. Um, Amy this is my aunt Janice, and this is…,’ Lizzie paused.

‘Maggie,’
announced Maggie, saving Lizzie from the awkwardness of how to classify things,
‘lovely to meet a friend of Lizzie’s.

‘Nice to
meet you too. I won’t keep you, I just wanted to remind Lizzie that my
brother’s gig is tonight and I hoped she was still interested in coming along?’

‘Oh God, is
that tonight? Wow I had totally forgotten.’

‘Look, no
pressure. If you do fancy it it’s at the Mill, kicks off about eight. I’ll just
meet you there if you decide to pop along. Oh and you guys are more than
welcome to come too of course, more the merrier.’

‘Thanks
Amy, although I’m not sure-,’ said Lizzie.

‘She’ll be
there,’ interjected Janice.

‘With bells
on,’ added Maggie. ‘But I think we’ll give it a miss Amy, we’ve got Zimmers to
polish and Janice’s roots are starting to show under her blue rinse, so we’ll
need to touch that up.’

‘Stay and
have a coffee Amy, tells us about that awful school you guys go to,’ said
Janice elbowing Maggie. Panic surged through Lizzie suddenly remembering her
expulsion and realising that Amy might be about to expose her secret. Between
Queen’s and the events in Oxford Lizzie was starting to feel the pressure of
keeping so many secrets. She had heard through the grapevine that Blair had not
involved the police, the rumour being that as his father was a relatively well
known politician and had considered the news of his son beaten by a girl to be
unwise, and so she thought she was in the clear on this particular fib.

‘Leave her
alone, I’m sure Amy’s got better things to be doing,’ said Lizzie.

‘Yeah, I
mean no thank you, I don’t have better things to do, it’s just that I actually
have a lot on. Promised to help Eric with - my brother Eric I mean - with stuff
for the gig. So I’ll see you tonight I hope Lizzie, and it was lovely to meet
you,’ said Amy giving Janice and Maggie and embarrassed wave. Lizzie showed Amy
out apologising for the other two.

‘You’re
going tonight young lady, I want you out of this house and out from under my
feet. Now you be a good girl and go get drunk and irresponsible with your
friends, you hear me?’ said Janice when Lizzie returned.

‘Yes
ma’am.’

The Mill
was a little arts and conference centre at the edge of town. It consisted of a
collection of small function rooms and an auditorium. It was also home to
Miller’s Bar, which solely housed Banbury’s music scene. Lizzie had never been,
but had always been curious. She was yet to experience live music, other than
the odd school concert which she was certain didn’t qualify, Janice and Maggie
would talk at length about various gigs they had been to and always with
sufficient enthusiasm as to make her jealous. A small Rock scene had developed
in Banbury, Lizzie had been told, a few local bands had emerged and she had
been tempted to find out more, however it wasn’t the sort of thing you just
turned up to on your own.

What to
wear was the first hurdle, and Lizzie wished she had taken Amy’s number to get
her opinion on the matter. Several wardrobe changes, and a final resigned
request for advice from the ladies later, and Lizzie had opted for jeans, a
Sonic Youth T-shirt and the bare minimum of makeup, an elaborately contrived
effort into creating an effortless arbitrary look.

The days
had been getting warmer and nights lighter and Lizzie was surprised at just how
early it felt. She had somehow missed the onset of summer shut up in the house
for the previous week.

She wasn’t
afraid, as such, to go out, but so much had happened in the last few months and
almost all of it was depressingly morbid; it just felt easier to stay away for
a while. She wondered how Vic was doing, she would have to make a point of
visiting him soon, and perhaps she would tell him about events in Oxford,
perhaps she wouldn’t, was it fair either way?

She heard
the Mill a long time before she caught sight of it, a low frequency pulse
reverberated intermittently, sound checks she guessed. By the time the Mill did
come into view the other instruments had joined the noise, an incredible din
filled the air and she could only wonder at just how loud it was likely to be
inside. Groups of teenagers in threes and fours sulked and smoked together
outside the centre, a few of them carried guitars and most of them carried
beer. Lizzie entered the strangely sober red brick building, an unlikely
looking venue for Rock music, and followed a group of girls, who had made a
considerably greater effort in their appearance than she had done, up to the
first floor. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to find, but the
narrow room, already claustrophobic with bodies, was not it.

Miller’s
bar stretched a good distance in length and lacked width but did not lack
atmosphere. The bar itself filled the far wall and was busy with dubiously
young looking music fans. There was a small raised stage along an adjacent wall
and Lizzie was instantly mesmerised. The drum kit monopolised the space and the
other musicians setting up jostled for position. A surprising mix of people sat
at the tables which skirted the far edges of the room. Maggie was wrong to
think they would have felt old here, many of the faces looked far older and
they also looked perfectly comfortable. Those standing, waiting for proceedings
to commence, grouped themselves together in small huddles like clans at a
gathering.

‘Lizzie,
you made it,’ Amy appeared as if from nowhere.

‘Yeah just
about, hi Amy,’ Lizzie’s priority was to check what Amy had decided to wear and
was relieved that she had elected for a very similar choice, although she
suspected there had been a more genuine lack of effort on her part. ‘Good
crowd,’ said Lizzie, hoping that it was.

‘Not bad,
although you should see the place when there’s someone good playing,’ replied
Amy almost whispering the last half of her sentence. ‘Eric, come here, this is
Lizzie, my friend from school.’

‘Sup,’
greeted a tall boy of about nineteen Amy had grabbed as he had tried to pass.
As much as she and Amy had tried to appear languid in their style this guy had
really nailed it. Long dark brown hair, which might actually be lighter in
colour than it seemed had it been remotely clean, covered one half of his face.
A battle scarred woollen jumper hung from him in shreds revealing a band
t-shirt underneath which Lizzie couldn’t quite make out through the various
holes. Lizzie suspected he probably smelled as bad as he looked. That said he
was handsome and she would have been perfectly willing to hold her breath to
get a little closer.

‘Go get us
beer,’ instructed Amy, sounding far more like an elder sister than a younger.
Eric tutted.

‘Fine but
gimme money.’

‘I have
money,’ said Lizzie.

‘No you do
not,’ said Amy handing her brother a note. ‘I invited you.’ Eric disappeared
into the bar throng.

‘He’s…
nice,’ said Lizzie, watching him go.

‘And he
knows it, the big ponce,’ said Amy catching Lizzie’s meaning.

‘So when’s
his band on?’

‘They’re on
last. I hope you can stick around that long, there’s three bands on before
them, but they only have half hour sets.’

‘Yeah, no
trouble. Headlining eh? They must be good?’ said Lizzie.

‘They’re okay,
but going on last isn’t the big deal it sounds, it’s kind of a poison chalice
really. See, the other bands bring a small devoted crowd with them,’ Amy
pointed at the small clusters of people and Lizzie now saw them for musicians
and connected fans. ‘It’s really rude actually, once they’ve played they should
stick around and listen to the other bands, but half the time they just bugger
off. So the best slot to get is to go on first, that way you get the biggest
crowd. Trust me, by the time Eric’s band goes on half these losers will be
gone.’ Eric returned with two plastic pint tumblers three quarters filled with
beer.

‘If Mum
smells that on your breath, it’s nothing to do with me,’ said Eric. Some little
blonde girl was tucked under his arm, a hand pushed through one of the jumper
holes to end up God only knew where.

‘Relax bro.
Have a good one,’ said Amy.

‘Did he go
to Queen’s too?’ asked Lizzie once Eric had been dragged away by the blonde.

‘No,’
laughed Amy, ‘he went to a comprehensive, Mum and Dad gave up on pushing him
down that road a long time ago.’

‘But you’re
okay with it?’ Amy shrugged.

‘Yeah, why
not? For all that it’s a pain, it’s a good school and it has a great music
programme.’

‘Does it? I
didn’t realise, what do you play?’ Lizzie was a little embarrassed at just how
little she knew about her new friend.

‘Piano,
have done most of my life, grade eight now.’

‘Wow,’ said
Lizzie, she had to guess this was a commendable achievement from the obvious
pride in Amy’s voice.

The drummer
clicked his sticks together four times signalling the start of the night’s
entertainment. Lizzie and Amy shuffled backwards as the crowd eased forward
toward the stage. The sound check had been loud, louder than expected but as
the first band – Razorblade Bath – broke into their opening number a wall of
noise hit Lizzie like a slap. Their sound was heavier and angrier than Lizzie’s
taste would normally subscribe to but they were, none the less, impressive. The
band was relentless and unyielding, never taking any more than a few seconds
between numbers, barely giving the crowd any opportunity to show their
appreciation. The punk – metal fusion meant that songs were short and punchy
and by the time their thirty minutes were up it was anyone’s guess how many
numbers they had amassed. The small crowd who appeared to have been with the
band had formed a little no go area in front of the stage where they pushed,
slammed, grabbed and, once or twice, accidently headed butted each other. At
the end of the set there was an enthusiastic, but brief roar and the band left
the stage without ever saying a word to the crowd. Lizzie was surprised to find
that she was a little out of breath.

‘It’s the
bass,’ explained Amy, ‘way too high. It sort of interferes with your heart
rhythm, really messes with you.’