Skin Deep (6 page)

I leaned on the door for support as I waited for my pulse to slow and the usual choke of anger and humiliation to die away. Walking down that corridor was the hardest part of the day and every time I did it, I had to fight back the memory of the first day back at school after the accident.

The locker room had been bad enough as girls from my year rushed over to say, ‘Hi! We missed you . . .’ before their voices tailed off. Their eyes widened in shock, even though they all knew what had happened to me. But knowing it isn’t the same as seeing it. I saw the thoughts flash through their heads: if that happened to me . . . oh God, I’d die . . . it’s . . . it’s . . . They tried to pretend they weren’t horrified, but they couldn’t hide it. I didn’t know what to say to them. I wanted to run out of the building and phone Mum, then sit in the field and cry until she came to get me.

But she’d talked me through this so many times and I didn’t think she’d come for me anyway. She’d call the school and they’d send a teacher to find me. They’d already offered to get my form tutor to meet me from the bus, but I didn’t want that. To be escorted down the corridors would only make people stare even more – Exhibit One, Fugly Scarface with Mrs Barker as bodyguard. Instead Beth had met me at the lockers and linked her arm through mine to march me to the form room.

When a new girl gasped at the sight of me, Beth’s face set as stiff as the plastic mask I’d discarded only the week before. My heart raced so fast I felt faint and I needed her arm to stop me falling. The corridor went quiet – a Mexican wave of silence spread along it as people saw us coming.

Stop looking at me! Leave me alone!
I screamed it so loudly in my head that I was scared for a second I’d yelled it for real.

Everyone around me took on that blurry quality as if I was sleepwalking through a nightmare. Fuzzy blobs of faces, staring bulbous eyes. Beth half-dragged me down that corridor; I couldn’t have done it by myself.

I took a deep breath and opened the toilet door, remembering just in time to look away from the mirrors. Another deep breath, and I stepped out into the corridor again.

Beth was sitting on the desk in the form room changing the cartridge in her fountain pen. She looked up as I walked in and I sensed she had news. Big news.

‘Jen, hi!’

‘Hi, good weekend?’ I sat down on the desk next to her.

‘Yeah, the battle re-enactment was brilliant! The best I’ve ever been to.’ Beth’s parents were members of a historical society who dressed up and did role plays of famous events in the area. This meant Beth wasn’t exactly the coolest girl in school. Tramline braces, glasses and hair that wouldn’t be tamed out of a frizz by even the hottest straighteners didn’t help her case either – Lindsay used to be really catty about that – but we’d been friends since our first day at school and I liked Beth no matter what anyone said. ‘I had this amazing costume – an amber underdress and a blue one over the top with this neat belt made of rope. Mum did my hair in plaits with ribbons wound in them. It looked totally authentic.’

She was not this excited just about a costume. There was more. ‘And?’

She giggled. ‘I met this boy . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘Mmm, and he’s a really nice guy.’

Well, good for her. I’d met the biggest jerk on the planet myself.

‘His name’s Max and he’s in Year 11. And he’s asked me to go to the society’s harvest dance at the end of the month. I told you about it, remember? The one with the medieval theme.’

She still had more to spill, I could tell. ‘Yes, I remember. And?’

Beth went red. ‘Oh . . . he kissed me.’

‘No way! You jammy cow. Is he fit?’

‘I think he is,’ she said guardedly. That meant no, I decided. That meant Natasha Green and her friends – the bitch queens of our year – wouldn’t think he was. They’d raise perfectly plucked eyebrows at him and laugh when Beth was out of sight.

‘What’s he look like?’ After all, she could lie if she wanted. I’d probably never see him.

‘About that height.’ She pointed to an averagely tall boy chatting to a girl outside the classroom door. ‘Brown hair. He’s got a lovely personality.’

Which meant he must be hideous. Not that Beth and I were in any position to be critical because neither of us were likely to trouble the modelling world any time soon.

‘Is he local?’

‘He lives near Whitmere, but more your side than mine. He goes to Badeley College – boards in the week and comes home at weekends.’

‘Badeley?’

‘Um, yes. I asked him if he knew Steven Carlisle and he remembers him from before he got excluded. His older brother’s on the rugby team with Steven, but Max says he doesn’t like him much.’

I sniffed. ‘Max’s brother has good taste.’

‘Have you seen him around lately?’

‘No, but I think it was him vandalising cars at Dad’s campaign group meeting.’

‘What’s he doing now?’

‘Still working for his dad. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that loser. So, you haven’t met Max before?’

‘Not exactly. I’ve seen him at other events, but I’ve never had a chance to talk to him. Parents around – just too embarrassing. But it was so mad on Saturday with the battle going on that we ended up spending loads of time together because my lot and his lot were on the other side of the field. We got on really well and when our side was celebrating at the end of the battle, he kissed me.’

‘Properly?’

‘Not at first. He snuck it in like it was part of the re-enactment. But I didn’t object, so . . .’

‘And how was it?’

She grinned. ‘Awesome!’

I prodded her. ‘Bitch! I told you you’d get there before me.’

‘Jen, maybe you should come to the next one. I know it’s not your thing, but . . .’ She hesitated. ‘It’s something to do. Get out, go somewhere new, you know.’

‘Yes, I’d go down a storm.’ I pointed to my cheek. ‘Authentically blown up with a musket ball.’

Beth flinched. ‘Don’t say that. I didn’t mean that and you know it.’

‘Sorry,’ I mouthed at her as our form teacher came in and we scrambled off the desks hastily before she went mental at us for sitting on the furniture.

On Monday morning, I lifted the bike off the boat with my ears still ringing from the sound of Mum crashing about in the kitchen.
She hadn’t said a word to me since I got up, not even when she slammed a bowl of soya milk porridge under my nose and shoved a tub of salad in my rucksack. I cycled the eight miles to Whitmere and freewheeled down the long hill towards town, rattling over the last stretch of cobbles. As if my nerves needed any more jangling.

Eight fifty. I was early.

Pete stuck his head out of the office. ‘Mornin’. And a filthy one it is. Come in for a brew before we get started.’

I parked the bike up by the side of the Portakabin. Pete handed me a mug of tea when I went inside. Bill nodded to me, puffing up a cloud of blue smoke from his pipe.

‘See that semi-trad outside?’ Pete pointed out of the window.

I looked out at a yellow and black narrowboat hauled up into dry dock. ‘Yes.’

‘Needs an overhaul – do the works on her. You any good on the painting side?’

‘Yeah, not bad.’

‘The arty stuff?’

I nodded.

‘Good, because I’m not. Bill normally takes that side of things, but he’s got a lot on so I’ll let you have a go with this one. You give me a shout to check your work regular, mind. I can’t afford for you to be making a mess.’

I hovered by the sink, gulping hot tea and agreeing.

He threw an amused glance up to the ceiling. ‘Sit down and drink it, lad. You’re making Bill nervous.’

I shuffled over to the spare chair. I’d never seen anyone look less nervous than Bill did, sucking away on his pipe.

Pete’s mouth twitched. ‘Got first-day jitters, eh? I still remember my first day at work. Apprentice in a car plant in the Midlands. I was bleedin’ terrified.’

Bill laughed, a phlegmy rattle. ‘Aye,’ he said, stretching his legs out. ‘I were an electrician. Big firm up north of here. They used to torment us new lads something chronic.’ He stared at me, eyes narrowing in weather-beaten skin as he took another draw on the pipe. ‘Let’s hope this ’un’s better than the last, Pete. Terrible trouble, he were.’ He took his pipe from his mouth and leaned closer to me. ‘Drove us to beyond what a man can endure. Drove us there over and over again until we couldn’t stand no more. We ’ad to do something! We buried him under the storage shed,’ he said in a croaky whisper. ‘His bones is still there.’

My mouth fell open, until I caught his eyes crinkling up with laughter and I snapped my jaw shut again. Bill winked.

Pete slapped the desk and his laugh boomed out. ‘Your face . . . priceless!’

Bill creaked to his feet and patted a heavy hand on my shoulder as he took his mug to the sink. ‘You’ll do all right, lad. Never worry.’

All the same, it was stressful that morning. I was desperate to get everything right and just as desperate not to be a nuisance. I kept thinking of Cole too. I guess that was from being around Pete and Bill. They reminded me a bit of him and his mates. And they loved those boats. Cole had been like that with the bike.

After he moved on to the boat with us, he decided he needed to take a trip over to Shrewsbury and he took me along riding pillion. Mum was so loved-up that she let him talk her into letting me go as long as he rode slowly. It might have been slow to Cole, but to me it was like we were an arrow flying through the air. He’d bulked me up in his spare leathers so I didn’t look so much like a kid to any passing road cops who might pull us over to check he had permission for me to be on the bike. We travelled down country lanes for miles, my arms round his waist for balance, and I learned which way to tilt as we cornered and how far to lean out.

We stopped at a council cottage in a large plot just outside Shrewsbury. ‘This is Jeff’s place,’ Cole said, holding the bike while I scrambled off. ‘Jeff!’ he hollered to a small man fiddling with a bike engine outside the house.

The guy came over. ‘Cole, mate, how’s it going?’

They clapped each other on the back and chatted for a few minutes about people I didn’t know, until Jeff asked, ‘So, who’s this then?’

Cole slung his arm over my shoulder. ‘This is Ryan. He’s part of why I’m here. Me and his mum have a thing going and we’re together now. But she lives on a boat. Moves about.’

‘Ah!’ Jeff said, and I couldn’t understand why he sounded so sympathetic. ‘How much do you want?’

‘Nothing, man, nothing. Just look after her for me. Take her out. Keep her ticking over.’ He looked like someone taking his dog to the vet for the last time.

‘Cole, what are you doing?’ I interrupted.

‘Must be a special woman,’ Jeff said.

Cole’s arm tightened round me. ‘Yeah she is, eh, Ryan?’

‘Er, yeah, of course. But what’re you doing?’

‘Can’t take a Harley on a boat, son.’

‘You’re leaving it here . . . no, you can’t . . .’

‘Jeff’s an old mate. I wouldn’t want to see her with anyone else.’

Jeff wheeled the Harley towards the garage. ‘Any time you’re around, you drop in and take her for a spin. She’s still yours. And when you want her back –’

Cole held up a hand in warning.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Jeff said, glancing at me. ‘No, you won’t, course.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

He smiled briefly. ‘It’s only a bike, kiddo.’

But I think he left a piece of his heart in that garage. I hope he went back for it when he walked out on us.

Pete sent me into town to the bakery at lunchtime. He told me to get something for myself too and there was no way I was getting that tub of quinoa and lentil salad out of my rucksack in front of them.
Sorry, Mum
. . .

She hadn’t talked to me properly since I told her about the job. Said she hadn’t raised me to be part of The System. But I didn’t care. I was finally having a go at real life.

It felt like a rebellion too. Especially as I watched the woman slapping greasy bacon on to white baps. I’d eaten meat before, but not since Cole went. He used to fall off the vegan wagon sometimes and take me with him for a burger. On my birthdays, he’d take me down the pub for a meal. We’d eat a packet of Polos between us on the way home so Mum wouldn’t find out.

When I got back with the food, Pete took the change from me without checking it and shoved it in his back pocket. I wondered if he’d count it later when I was out of sight. ‘Your tea’s on the side, lad.’

This time I sat down without being told.

‘You’re travelling people then,’ Bill said, licking his fingers as he finished the roll.

‘Er, yeah.’

He filled his pipe with tobacco from a cracked leather pouch. ‘All boat people was travelling folk once,’ he remarked. ‘The barge men. Used to carry goods all over this country on the canals. Lived on the barges with their families. The kids used to work too. Back in them days, the barges was pulled by horses. No engines then. So when they got to a tunnel, the horse couldn’t tow them through, see. One of the little ’uns would unhook it and lead it round and the other kids would lie on their backs on the wings of the boat with their dad and push against the tunnel wall with their feet. Legging, it were called, and they shoved the barge through that way. Damned hard work. My granddad grew up on one of those barges. Told me some fine tales about it.’ He smiled. ‘Aye, all the boatmen was travellers once.’