Influence (6 page)

‘Hello,’ she said throwing him a confused
look, ‘do I know you?’

‘Actually no, but
I’ve seen you around, or really I mean I’ve seen you here. What are you
studying?’ Lizzie didn’t want to lie if she could help it but she wasn’t sure
whether this guy was genuinely interested or whether he was checking to see if
she was sufficiently authorised to be here. She waited, allowing one of Mr
Pallister’s silences to slide between them like an awkward barrier. Lizzie
could feel the boy’s discomfort and was just about to put him out of his misery
and come clean about her situation and confess to trespassing when he broke
first. ‘Sorry, I’m being nosey aren’t I, here you are minding your own business
enjoying a bit of peace and some guy charges in interrogating you. Let me start
again, hi, my name’s Void,’ Lizzie’s confused look deepened.

‘You mean your name
has somehow expired, or is no longer valid?

‘What? Oh no, no,
that is my name, you can call me Void,’ Lizzie’s expression changed ever so
slightly in that one eyebrow raised a half inch giving Void here a look that
could only mean – Really? Again she allowed a silence and waited. ‘Frank, my
name is Frank, but my friends call me Void.’ He looked thoroughly abashed and
Lizzie couldn’t help feel just a little sorry for him. From a distance, and
standing next to his overtly painted friends Lizzie had thought he didn’t have
any makeup on, but up close she could now see a hint of white foundation, his
eyes and lips were also unnaturally dark.  ‘Hey, if you can’t reinvent yourself
at university then when can you eh?’ he said, his makeup failing to hold back
his blush.

‘I guess,’ Lizzie
offered him, making her feel a little less guilty for his embarrassment. She
was surprised just how effective old Pallister’s silence trick worked, she
wondered if she sat here long enough saying nothing whether he might give her
his bank card and PIN number.

‘I’m Lizzie’ she said,
and had considered giving him a false name but she was determined to maintain
the truth where possible, and there seemed no harm in his knowing her name. She
turned her head away from the boy.

‘So what you
listening to?’ Lizzie sighed showing her mild exasperation at his continued
attempts at communication.

‘Pumpkins.’

‘Ah yeah, Smashing
Pumpkins, not bad. Not really my thing though but you could do a lot worse.’
Lizzie could tell he was desperate for her to reciprocate an enquiry into his
tastes but instead she smiled, and again turned away, sure this would be the
end of the very one sided conversation. She was wrong. ‘Yeah, the whole grunge
scene is a big step forward from all that hairspray rock shit in the eighties
but it doesn’t really speak to me, you know?’ He swung his canvas shoulder bag
onto his knee displaying what was once a drab green satchel but now was
emblazoned with patches, handwriting and a drawing here and there. Lizzie
recognised only a few of the names.
Sisters of Mercy, The Cure
, and
Type
O Negative
were crudely and indelibly written in black marker, while the
patches, mostly in black, displayed names such as
Paradise Lost
and
My
Dying Bride
. Taking pride of place on the centre of the front flap of the
bag was a patch with just three letters.

‘Who’s NIN? Lizzie
enquired, unable to help herself.

‘Who’s what?’ Frank
spun his bag round to look. ‘Oh N-I-N’ Void spelled out. ‘Nine Inch Nails, best
band in the world, I don’t care what anyone says,’ he gushed. Lizzie did not
disguise the rolling of her eyes.

A shout came from
Void’s crowd, and Lizzie only then noticed they had been watching from a
distance, either waiting for Void, or enjoying the show. ‘I gotta go Lizzie, it
was nice to meet you, maybe see you at the union for a drink sometime, where do
you go?’ Lizzie had no choice but to play here ace card again faced with this
question she couldn’t answer. Someone from his crowd shouted again, clearly
impatient.

‘Well, just see you
around I guess.’

‘Sure’, said Lizzie,
throwing him a bone. Void rose, gave Lizzie a smile and trotted back to his
friends. Lizzie watched after him as he caught up to the group. Just before
they disappeared from view Lizzie saw that one of the girls was looking at her
– Elvira, it was not a kind look.

Lizzie took a slow
stroll back to the train station. Trains were regular, two an hour and the
journey itself took less than twenty minutes, so she was in no rush. There were
more tourists than normal today and she wondered why that was. She often had to
chastise herself for finding the abundance of tourists annoying. She neither
lived, nor studied, in Oxford and therefore had no right to feel put out or
bothered by visitors to the city as she was, for all intents and purposes, one
of those temporary features of the landscape. The CD was beginning to break up
and crackle, Lizzie searched her bag for replacement batteries but hadn’t
packed any. Without music to distract her Lizzie pulled a book from her bag,
some fantasy fiction Vic had insisted she read and which had taken her an
inordinately lengthy period to get through despite its relative brevity. Lizzie
was at least able to give it her full attention and had finished the awful
novel by the time the train pulled into Banbury station.

Lizzie mistimed
her return journey and left it until after 4pm to catch a train home. She tried
never to do this as the trains were filled with homeward bound commuters and
inevitably there were two passengers to every seat.

The walk
from the station took as much time as the train journey itself, but at least it
was a pleasant stroll through the centre of Banbury. She always enjoyed the
walk home except for a Friday and Saturday night when the atmosphere of the
town changed and would suddenly turn into any other town centre in Britain
where people, who predominantly worked Monday to Friday, would drive the
pressures of the preceding week and the stress of the proceeding one out of
their minds by setting about getting out of theirs. On the nights where Lizzie
had made the mistake of finding her way home at these times she would be forced
to slalom groups of over-amorous drunk males and covens of screeching women
usually consoling a panda impersonating, projectile vomiting harpy at the
centre of stumbling huddles.

Lizzie
opened the front door, threw her bag over a coat hook. There was laughter
coming from the kitchen which would mean Janice’s best friend Maggie was over
and that they would shortly be heading out.

‘Evening
folks,’ said Lizzie, announcing her arrival. Janice turned and hugged her niece
cautiously, trying to avoid spilling the wine she held in one hand, and burning
Lizzie with the cigarette she held in the other.

‘Hey
kiddo,’ said Maggie using her ubiquitous hail. She was sat on the work surface
with one leg dangling over the edge and the other propped up while she
carefully painted her toe nails.

‘I forget,
were you in today?’ enquired Janice, with ‘in’ meaning school.

‘No, I had
a free day today.’

‘So you
were in Oxford? You should have said I would have met you for lunch.’ Her aunt
would often meet Lizzie at lunchtimes when she headed into town on her free
study periods. Janice’s job also required her to work a lot of Saturdays and
given Lizzie’s rather limited extra-curricular schedule she would sometimes
bring lunch to her office which, at weekends, would normally be empty but for a
few particularly driven employees. Lizzie wasn’t entirely sure what it was that
Janice did for a living. She worked for a marketing company, but that in and of
itself failed to offer explanation and her aunt’s job title – Marketing
Executive, failed to make the situation any clearer. Even a direct question
about the ins and outs of Janice’s job didn’t fully paint a clear picture in
Lizzie’s mind but Janice loved her job and Lizzie, for that reason, didn’t give
her a hard time about just how boring it all sounded. Lizzie was seventeen.
Seventeen going on thirty seven her mother would have said, would have said but
could not say, not any more. Janice had much the same view and often teased her
about being an old cardigan clad woman trapped in the body of a teenager.
Janice was her mum’s baby sister, and at twenty nine there was only twelve
years between her and Lizzie. Janice had always treated Lizzie more like a
cousin, perhaps even a little sister; the normal aunt - niece relationship
didn’t really exist, even after everything that had happened and Janice had
become responsible for Lizzie. She was glad that the events last year had not
changed their relationship. She was grateful that Janice had not tried to adopt
the mother role and had respected Lizzie enough to allow her to dictate how and
when she needed Janice in her life. The result was a sort of house mate
situation between the two. Each would do the courtesy of letting the other know
their plans in advance so as not to inconvenience one another or have the other
worry unduly. Lizzie didn’t ever have people over to the house and other than
the ever present Maggie, Janice didn’t either.

 Janice’s
love-life, or lack thereof, was a mystery to Lizzie, she dare not ask however as
such a question would inevitably lead to a reciprocated enquiry and all the
embarrassment that that drew. Janice had had a fairly serious boyfriend when
she had lived in Glasgow as a student and Lizzie had met him a couple of times
at family engagements. The relationship had come to an end when Janice had been
offered her job in Oxford. There had been a serious conversation surrounding
plans and priorities between the two and they had split on amicable terms.
Other than Lizzie herself, Janice seemed to have little else going on in her
life with the exception of her job.

Her friend
Maggie was the only acquaintance of any note Lizzie was aware of. Janice had,
from time to time, mentioned people in her office but never with any sense of
affection or in any other context other than work. Maggie worked in the same
building, but not for the same company and Lizzie liked her a lot. She was Janice’s
social life and she would appear at the house a couple of times a week to break
up her otherwise work obsessed world. Lizzie had learned that it had been music
that had sparked the friendship between them.

Janice and
Maggie were dressed for going out, but not in a little black number kind of
way. Both women were clearly heading out to a rock club and were dressed
appropriately. The two women were easily distinguishable, Janice shared
Lizzie’s dark hair and pale skin, albeit Janice’s hair was far longer and hung
straight and glossy unlike Lizzie’s own tousled waywardness. Maggie was blonde
and angular, a gym junkie whilst maintaining a feminine physique. Her hair was
chin length which suited her; it accentuated her angular look somehow.  Lizzie
took a can of Coke from the fridge and jumped up on to the work surface to sit
with Maggie.

‘So you
coming with us tonight kiddo, you must be eighteen by now right?’ asked Maggie
pushing into Lizzie with her elbow.

‘Nope,
still seventeen. Feels like I’ve been seventeen for years now, but I’ll be joining
you guys soon enough.’ Maggie and Janice had once before dragged Lizzie into
Oxford to go to a club. They had painstakingly worked on Lizzie’s make up and
wardrobe for half the night while telling her how much she would love the place
they had in mind, how they would find the perfect guy for her and warning her
to stay close once they got in there. All this only for Lizzie to feel
thoroughly humiliated when they arrived at the club, with some bald gorilla in
a bomber jacket taking one look at her and shaking his streamlined, battle
scarred head. They had given Lizzie some I.D. belonging to Janice and the makeup
they had applied was an attempt to replicate the picture it displayed, however
it had failed to convince. Lizzie had vehemently insisted they go on without
her and enjoy their night. If they had agreed Lizzie wouldn’t have been at all
resentful, she would have been relieved, but instead they had refused, and with
them she had taken a very expensive taxi home and spent a guilt-ridden night in
front of the television. Maggie and Janice now knew they would never be able to
convince Lizzie to try again until she was legally entitled.

‘So you’re
what, studying tonight?’ asked Janice.

‘I’ll hit
the books for an hour or so but I promised Robe and Vic I’d go over to their
place,’ Lizzie’s face echoed her unenthused tone.

‘Oh, so
which one you got your sights set on?’ ribbed Maggie, again pushing her elbow
into Lizzie’s shoulder. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

‘Clearly
you’ve never met the Adams boys Maggie,’ said Janice coming to Lizzie’s rescue.
Janice had met the boys a few times, and Lizzie had tried to forewarn her about
the boy’s eccentricities, which Janice had initially assumed to be an
exaggeration; she discovered, however, that she had not been, if anything she
had been kind. The first few times the boys had appeared at the front door,
having walked Lizzie home, she had invited them in. It had come as something of
a relief that Lizzie was making friends. A grown woman engaging the boys in
conversation, it transpired, had proved too much for them as they mumbled
excuses and seemed incapable of eye contact, it was as if Janice had appeared
at the door naked. Eventually though Lizzie had encouraged the boys beyond the threshold
as one might gain the confidence of a pair of gazelle. Since then the boys
would pop in from time to time for a drink before continuing on their way home.
In fact Vic appeared to have taken quite a shine to Janice and it was now her
turn to feel a little uneasy when she had to endure his clumsy attempts at
flirting. ‘Don’t get me wrong Lizzie, they’re lovely lads but if you were to
come to me and tell me you had romantic intentions toward either one of them
I’d have to do the right thing and euthanize you,’ Lizzie laughed.

‘I think we
can safely avoid having to put me to sleep anytime soon Jan, but thanks for the
concern.’

‘So they’re
hideous? Is that what we’re saying?’ asked Maggie. Lizzie, concerned Maggie
might be getting the wrong idea said ‘No, that’s not it, although they’re not
what you’d call handsome. They’re… well, I dunno, kinda,’ Lizzie looked over to
Janice, seeking help with the right words.

‘Weird as
tits on fish Mags. Seriously.’

‘I see,’
said Maggie. So what
is
your night with the brothers Grimm likely to
entail?’

‘Actually,
I’m not entirely sure what to expect. Dungeons and Dragons, is pretty much all
I know.’

‘Ooooooh,
kinky,’ said Maggie to Janice. ‘We’ve got a right little dark horse here. I
didn’t know whips, chains and all that was your thing Elizabeth.’

‘Very
funny. It’s role-playing… Or something.’

‘I don’t
think that makes it sound any less kinky Lizzie,’ said Janice trying to stifle
a laugh.

‘Ah, you
know what I mean, stop teasing you pair of harpies. If I make it through
tonight without dropping dead of boredom I think it will be a small miracle.’

‘Well, be
good, and play nice’ said Janice with a wink.

‘And if you
can’t be good, be careful. You tell those boys to keep their swords in their
sheaths or they’ll have me to deal with,’ added Maggie.