Chapter Twenty-Four

Newbridge:  Leaving

It was my thirteenth birthday. Mom bought me new jeans, and Dare, by The Human League. She’d heard me singing along to Don’t You Want Me on Top Of The Pops. Billy gave me a cassette recorder he’d got from someone down the pub. The record button wouldn’t work but it didn’t matter ‘cos it still played music.

I was winding the tape forward, searching for Don’t You Want Me, when Mom called me into the living room.

A tall lady I hadn’t seen before sat next to my sleeping sister. Mom looked worried, her hands pressed to white cheeks as she searched about the room. She told me to go pack my things.

‛Pack what things?’

‛Clothes and whatever else you need because we’re not coming back, and hurry up. Be as quick as you can.’ She handed over several large plastic bags.

‛Why Mom, where we going?’

‛Never you mind, just move it. You’ve got ten minutes.’ Mom’s attention turned back to the tall lady she called Pauline and said she didn’t know what to take.

‛That’s why I’m here. Come on love, just get what you need and grab what you can for now. I’ll see if my brother can collect your furniture when you get the keys to the new place. Is there anything in here you need?’

‛Why have I gotta pack?’ I asked, ‛What’s happening?’

Mom threw hands to her head and shouted, ‛Sam! Do as you’re bloody told and pack. Move it.’

Squeezing the bags together, I headed towards my room unsure what should be packed, or why. I pulled out the box from under my bed, which was full of stuff I didn’t bother with anymore, only taking a few things before throwing my clothes from drawers into another bag. Mom called for me to hurry as the tall lady, Pauline, entered my bedroom.

‛You don’t remember me do you?’ she said opening drawers, taking out Sissy’s clothes and toys.  I didn’t and shook my head, trying to place her face.

‛I’m Pauline. You were only a babe the last time I saw you. You must’ve been about five or six years old, the same as Megan is now, so you probably wouldn’t recognise me. But I recognised you as soon as I saw you. You’re just as handsome now as you were then.’ The tall lady smiled as my face warmed.

‛You’ll all be coming to stay with me for a while. I have an eleven year old about your age. You should get on well together.’

‛I’m thirteen.  It’s my b... Are we all going to yours?’

Pauline continued packing a bag. ‘Yes, for a while.’

‛Why are we moving, goin’ to yours? Is it ‘cos of Billy?’

‛You need to talk to your mom about that, love.’

In the living room, Mom rushed around throwing anything within reach into a carrier bag, then lifted Sissy into her arms, telling me to start taking our stuff to the lift. I was aware of her urgency to leave the flat, the need to hurry. Rushing back, I grabbed another three bags as Mom and Pauline picked up the remaining ones. Shutting the door, I was told to run ahead and call the lift.

Mom paced up and down, Sissy was now awake and complaining about being hungry and wanting to know where we were going.

‘That taxi better be here, I don’t want to be left hanging around downstairs waiting. What if he comes back early? It’ll kick off, Pauline. You know he won’t let me go.’

‛Stop worrying, Jen. We’ll be away before he comes. Well away.’

The lift doors rumbled open and I asked Mom again, ‛Why are we going?’

‛Because I’ve had enough. That’s all you need to know.’

Outside, a man with a fat round face sat in a black cab as we carried our stuff to the roadside. He struggled out of his seat asking. ‘How much stuff you ladies got then?’ before walking to the boot and loading bags.  His hands look too small for his arms.

‘Right, that’s the lot is it? Where’d you ladies want to go?’

‘Twenty two Morrison Street, Kingston,’ said Pauline guiding me into the cab.

We pulled up outside number twenty two. Mom gently pushed me to get out while waving money in her hand towards the driver. She hadn’t stopped talking in a fast high voice the whole journey. I tried loads of times to find out why we were leaving, but she ignored me, until she finally got angry and slapped me across the head telling me not to interrupt. I know it was because of Billy, but why did We have to leave, why not Him?

‛You’ll have to share with Toby,’ said Pauline, handing over two bags from the boot, ‛It’ll only be for a while.’ I followed her up the path with Mom walking behind holding Sissy’s hand, who still complained about being hungry.

Inside, a big black dog ran toward us barking. I stepped back bumping into Mom.

‛Shut up, Sampson. You’ll have the neighbours complaining again. Take no notice of him; he’s as soft as a brush.’

Sampson came closer, sniffing my leg. I slowly put a hand out then pulled back.

‘Sampson, away ... Go lie down ... Go on,’ demanded Pauline as she rushed back into the hallway shouting for Toby to come downstairs.

‘Right. I’ll put the kettle on.  There’s only a single bed in the back room. Will you be alright in there with Megan?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Mom. ‘Feel awful about bothering you. Are you sure you don’t mind putting us all up? It’s a lot to ask.’

‛Don’t be daft. You’d do the same for me.’

A boy, younger than me but taller, appeared from behind the door then stood next to Pauline.

‘This is Toby, my lad. Sam will be sharing with you for a while, son.’

Toby screwed up his face. ‛Why, Mom! Why’s he gotta share with me. Why can’t he go in the back room?’

‛Because he can’t,’ said Pauline. ‛Help him up with his things and show him your room. I’m putting chips on, I’ll call you when they’re done. Go on love, follow Toby. He’ll show you.’

Pauline turned to talk to Mom as Toby disappeared back into the hallway. I followed, running up dimly lit stairs to keep up then walked into a bedroom.

Model aeroplanes hung from string fixed to the ceiling circling a dull light bulb. Stuff scattered the floor, bits from a Meccano set, a Dukes of Hazzard Scalextrix and He Man next to a headless Skeletor. A massive grey battleship lay smashed in pieces.

‛You ain’t sleeping in my bed.’ Toby scowled, his eyes sunken, black, and narrowed. ‛And don’t touch my stuff. It’s my room so don’t mess with anythin’. Why are you here anyway?’

‘Mom didn’t tell me.’

‛How long you stayin’ for? Is it just tonight?’  Toby sat on his bed picking up a broken model plane; its tailpiece missing. It was a Spitfire.

‛Dunno, like I said, my mom didn’t tell me anything. Have you got the tailpiece?’

‛Whah?’

‛The tailpiece, for the Spitfire?’

Holding out the plane, he dropped it to the lino then stamped on it. Bits of plastic spun across the floor. ‛It can’t fly now.’ He moved towards the door. Turning back, he asked. ‘What’s your name?’

‛Sam.’

‛Sam! That’s a dog’s name.’

He walked towards the stairs; I followed him, wanting to get back to Mom.

‛Don’t follow me and keep out my room,’ he called making his way down creaking steps, his hand juddering on the banister rail.

I sat on the top step, not knowing which way to go and wondered why Mom had brought us here, to this place, away from my friends. I wanted to go home. Hated that Toby, and his mom, and this crappy house.