Chapter 1

His parents were arguing downstairs. Not that his father would call it that. “A full and frank discussion of views.” He always called it. Everyone else called it Arguing. Simon didn’t know what it was about, but it was in full swing. He crept downstairs to hear better, just as it appeared that the two combatants had paused for breath and had tactically retreated to regroup. Simon walked into the room anyway.

“Mum, dad, what’s up?” His parents turned to look at him. His mother looked ready to throw something. Never a good state of affairs to be in, as she used to play amateur basketball and her aim was devilishly good.

“Your aunt phoned tonight. She can no longer take you for three weeks over summer.”

“Oh.” That was going to be a problem. His parents had booked a three week trip to Australia to see her sister there, as well as do all the touristy type stuff. See the opera house. Stare at Mount Uluru from an ethnically sympathetic distance. Go swimming off the Great Barrier Reef, get eaten by sharks. Touristy shit. They had been planning it for months, years almost. And now her other sister had welched on her part of the deal to look after Simon for three weeks.

“I can look aft...” Both his parents turned to look at him whilst freakishly speaking at the same time.

“No!”

Well, there went his briefly enjoyed fantasy of three weeks home alone. “I thought Auntie Kristine had agreed to take me for the three weeks?”

“So did we,” Explained his father” Except that last minute dot com, she decided she would rather go to Corfu and get sha...”

“Rob!” Warned Simon’s mother. His father trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders.

“So I’m going with you now?” Simon didn’t really want to go. Twenty four hours each way in a plane didn’t really appeal to him, besides he was very fair skinned and would probably instantly burn as soon as he stepped out of the plane, regardless of whether or not he slapped on factor ‘fuck off’ beforehand.

His mother sighed. “We tried adding you to the flight but all fights are fully booked.”

Simon danced inside “Oh, Shame.”

“We tried cancelling, but the tour operator said it was too late and if we cancel, we won’t get a refund.”

“Ouch”. The cost of the trip was one of the reasons why he hadn’t been going in the first place. They couldn’t afford him to go. “I could stay at a friend’s?” Simon didn’t have many friends and even he couldn’t think of any that would take him at such short notice. Hell, he couldn’t think of anyone HE wanted to stay with for three weeks, let alone whether they could take him or not.

An uncomfortable silence descended the room. He’d learned about this just the other week in English at school. ‘Impasse’, when two or more people refuse to back down. Otherwise known in Political Science class as, ‘Brexit’. A mad inspiration came to him like that stupid big finger from the National Lottery adverts, ‘It could be you!’

“What about Amy?” His dad raised an eyebrow towards his mum. She didn’t say anything. Which, depending on how some stupid butterfly flapped its wings in Croydon or somewhere, could either be a good thing on a bad thing. It was definitely not an appealing route towards a solution, judging by the chewing wasps expression currently residing on his mother’s face.

“Go to bed. Simon.” was all she said, but she said it in a tone of voice he knew from experience, was not to be questioned. Simon headed back up to his room. Slipping back into bed, fourteen year old Simon thought about the eight years older sister he hadn’t seen for years. From what he could gather from the few snippets his father mentioned, his older sister had always been something of a hand full, but when she hit ten years of age, things had spiralled downhill faster than an avalanche, pretty much taking out everything in its path. Simon didn’t really remember much from that time. She had always been nice towards him, had been good fun. He had no idea what the issue was between Amy and their parents. But at fifteen, things had come to an explosive head. There had been smashing of crockery, lots of shouting and Amy had left with a small bag of clothes and that was the last he had seen of her. She still sent him a birthday and Christmas card every year. For the first couple of years it had been toys, and then as he hit his teens, music vouchers, now it was Amazon vouchers. Thirty pounds in vouchers each birthday and Christmas. There was nothing for his parents, not even a card at Christmas. He always felt guilty as he didn’t even have an address to send her anything in return. Not even a phone number. He had thought at first that his mum was just being obstinate about not giving him an address, until his father took him aside once when the pair of them were alone and admitted that they -his parents- didn’t actually have a forwarding address for her.

Time hadn’t mellowed his mother much where Amy was concerned.

His parents might not miss her, but Simon did.

The next morning Simon caught a bus into the centre of town. In all honesty, he would have preferred to stay at home, but the atmosphere in the house could have been cut with a chainsaw, so he decided to escape. It was the first day of the school holidays and the town centre was heaving with other kids. Simon waved at a few he knew, but kept his distance as he wasn’t feeling particularly sociable. He wandered round his favourite shops. Mostly toy and gaming shops. Unfortunately, it seemed like all the boys his age had the same idea, and the plan he had of going to the computer game shops and playing on the demonstration consoles was ruined by the large crowds of other kids with the same idea. Annoyed, he made his way to WH Smith to read the comics instead.

Simon was making his way through the latest issue of 2000AD when his phone rang. “Fucking parents. Can’t leave me alone for five minutes without having to check up on me.” Simon pulled his phone out. It wasn’t his parents, nor was it a number he recognised. He swiped the green symbol and held the phone up to his ear. “Uh, hello?” He asked cautiously.

“Hello squirt.” The voice was teasing and female.

“What? Um, Who’s this?”

“Do you really not recognise me?”

“Recognise you?”

“Come on, I’ll give you a guess.”

“Umm, I think you have the wrong number.”

“Simon?”

“Err...” Simon was flummoxed.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Simon put the magazine back on the shelf and looked around guiltily, though why he did so, even he didn’t know.

“For the love of ... It’s Amy, you know, your big sister.”

“AMY!” It came out as a rather high pitched squeal which made everyone within earshot turn to look at him. Simon felt his face flush red with embarrassment.

“Jeesh, thanks for making me deaf in one ear bro.”

“Oh my god, is it really you?”

“Like, duh!”

“Oh my god ... How did you get my number?”

“Dad gave it to me.”

“Oh my god...”

“And stop saying ‘oh my god’”

“Oh my...”

“Don’t!”

Simon tried to reign in his emotions “Wow. I’ve missed you so much! There is so much I want to ask, to tell you.”

“Looks like you’ll have plenty of time over the next three weeks.”

“REALLY!!!”

“For fucks sake! Are you deliberately trying to make me deaf? Carry on like that and I’ll put you on speaker phone.”

“Sorry. How on Earth did they find you?”

“Dad always had my number. You know, for emergency use only. He normally rings me every New Year and we have a socially awkward chat.”

“Does mum know about those ‘chats’?”

“I don’t care about that bitch.”

Simon winced. It appeared time and distance hadn’t healed some wounds. He desperately tried to move the conversation on. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m getting to see you after all these years. Will you even recognise me?”

The voice at the other end laughed. It was a pleasing sound. “Dad texted me a picture.” Simon laughed as well.

“Oh my God...”

“Stop it!”

“I can’t help it.”

There was an awkward silence over the phone. Simon cracked first. “Umm, are you picking me up, do you drive? Or is dad dropping me off?”

“I’ve booked you a train ticket online. Dad will drop you off at the station. I’ll meet you here.”

“Where’s ‘here’?”

“I need to go. I’ll see you in a couple of days. See you soon squirt.”

The call terminated.

Simon just stared unseeing at the magazine rack “Wow.”

His mum was definitely not pleased about the situation. Not by a long shot. But she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Dad seemed remarkably neutral about the whole affair. He had a whole day at his sisters, before their parents flew from Heathrow. His mother had told him to take a picture of Amy’s flat and send it to her. And that if he saw any needles or drug paraphernalia -his mum had shown him pictures of what to look for after he had asked what a ‘bong’ was- he was to leave the house straight away, phone her and they would be down immediately to pick him up.

Simon had never been on a train before, and boarding it had felt magical, like he was heading to Hogwarts or something. His parents had waved him off at the station after they had handed him over to a conductor. She would be keeping an eye on him because he was an unaccompanied minor, so the woman said. Apart from keeping an eye on him at stops, she left him alone, which added to the excitement. He was going on a journey! Granted it wasn’t quite Hobbit levels of journeying, but it was still more freedom than he had ever been trusted with before.

The train tannoy announced that the next stop was his. Simon pulled out his phone and typed a message to his sister.

: I’ll arrive in the next ten minutes or so :

He held onto the phone tightly in his lap as he watched the urban sprawl shoot past. The phone vibrated in his lap. He quickly lifted it and swiped it open

: I’ll be there :) :

He felt himself grinning like a madman as he read it. The carriage door rattled open and the female conductor made her way towards him.

“The next stop is yours Simon.”

“Thanks.” Simon started packing away his comics and rubbish as the train whistle blew and it started to gradually slow. A few others in the carriage started to collect their stuff and waited at the doors. Simon joined them. Dirty rubbish strewn gravel gave way to the start of the platform. Another train was in station on the other track, heading in the opposite direction. As Simons train juddered to a halt, it gradually pulled away. There was a pause and then the doors opened. The other passengers departed quickly, desperate to be on their way. Simon was slower. He didn’t really want to leave; the journey had been too much of a novelty. A male member of staff was stood on the platform chatting to a well-dressed woman. Simon immediately recognised Amy. Even after eight years.

“AMY!!” He raced over to his sister and enveloped her in a hug, which she laughingly returned. The female conductor nodded to her colleague on the platform, her chaperone duty fulfilled, and headed back into the train as the doors squeaked shut. With a rattle of running gear, the train slowly picked up speed and departed.

The male station employee, happy that someone the minor knew had met him at the station, took his leave. Amy thanked him as he left.

Simon looked up at his sister. She was still taller than he was, even with taking into account the height her heels added to the height difference. She was dressed very smartly; a purse slung over one white blouse attired shoulder. She wore a black skirt that ended just above the knee. The skirt had a black glossy leather belt with an understated buckle. Seamed black nylon clad legs terminated in strappy shoes with a high but still sensible heel. She carried herself with the air of a high powered business woman or the secretary to someone in a position of power. Her hair was pitch black, a colour that couldn’t have been natural and was cut in a long bob. Her blouse was short sleeved and as surreptitiously as he could, Simon checked out her arms, looking for the ‘track’ marks mum had shown him pictures of. Amy’s arms were smooth and blemish free.

Nor was she worryingly thin or covered with sores. “Selfie!” Simon cried out. Amy laughed as he held up his phone and took a picture of them together. He looked at the picture. They looked so alike that it would have been difficult not to see them as the siblings they were. “I need the loo.”

Amy took his bags. “They’re over there. Don’t dawdle, I’ve a taxi waiting.”

Simon raced over in the direction she had pointed, finding the males and hurrying inside. The toilets had a strong citrus tinge to the air and the walls were clean tiled and graffiti free. Simon unzipped himself and relieved himself with a grateful sigh into the urinal. Washing and drying his hands, he pulled out his phone and sent the picture of them together to his mum, then as an afterthought, his dad as well. It was part of his instructions. A picture of Amy and a picture of her flat to be sent upon arrival. He slipped his phone back in his pocket and made his way back out into the station.

Amy handed him his bags and linking her arm through his, led him out of the station. True to her word, a taxi was indeed waiting for them. They climbed in the back.

“Home?’ The driver asked.

“Home George.” Amy answered. The journey was not a long one as Amy asked him lots of questions about his journey down. The taxi pulled into a quiet cul-de-sac. Not really what Simon was expecting. The taxi slowed to a stop outside one of the small detached bungalows that made up the houses of the cul-de-sac.

“Cash or account Miss?”

“Account George, thanks.” George handed over a tablet with a stylus attached to it via some orange string. Amy scribbled across the bottom and handed it back.

“Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure George” Amy said with a genuine smile.

Taking one of his bags, Amy led him up a driveway; past a two door black BMW.

“Is this yours?” Simon asked.

“All mine.” Even Simon could hear the genuine pleasure in her tone that accompanied her statement.

“Married?”

Amy laughed as she reached into her purse and pulled out a bunch of keys “God no!”

“Oh...”

The front door opened into a brightly lit hallway. The whole scenario was really not what he was expecting. The home was plainly furnished, nothing tatty or worn but equally nothing flashy or ostentatious.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that I do have a spare room, no sofa surfing for you.” She smiled as she spoke and Simon couldn’t help but fall into the warmth of love she exuded. The ‘spare’ bedroom turned out not to be quite as spare as the term implied. A large work desk sat in front of a large window that permitted in a fair degree of natural light.

A printer like device sat on the desk. A craft cutting matt in front. Shelves lined one wall. Plastic boxes sat on the shelves each labelled with precise neat handwriting. What little space was left, and there wasn’t much to start with, was taken up with a large fold away bed. It looked comfortable enough. It was certainly more than he was expecting.

“It’s not the Ritz...” Amy laughed. As did Simon.

Simon tried to put on a posh affronted tone “I suppose it will do...” Amy punched him in the side.

“Umm, Amy, this is a bit awkward...”

“What little bro?”

“Mum ... She wanted pictures of the err ... drug den come squat that...” He trailed off, looking rather sheepish.

“The fucking bitch... “She waved a hand dismissively “Take your pictures.”

“Thanks Sis. Sorry about this, she was rather umm, insistent.”

“Yeah I suppose I can understand where she is coming from now. With age comes wisdom and all that shite. Look, I’m going for a shower, unpack relax. I’ll speak with you later, okay?”

“Yeah, cool.”

There really wasn’t much to unpack. His clothes were perfectly fine where they were in his bag. In fact, he preferred his clothes in his bags. At least he knew where they all were. Simon slumped on the bed. It was more than comfortable than it looked. There wasn’t a TV in the room and he missed his console. He looked at the surrounding boxes and cracked the lids on a few. The contents were exactly what the labels said they were. He hadn’t really had his sister down as a crafty type. But then he had never known her well enough to know what she was into hobby wise.

He took a picture of his room, the main bathroom, he could hear a shower going in what he presumed was her bedroom, the kitchen and living room. Had his parents phoned to ask him about his sister’s house, he would have simply described it as, ‘plain but functional’. The kitchen looked out over the front of the house and the BMW in the driveway. Simon took a picture of it. The shower shut off. Not wishing to appear a snoop. Simon made his way to the living room and sat on the singular couch.

His sister obviously wasn’t a sociable person then, or rarely entertained at home. The room was also remarkably devoid of knick-knacks and pictures of people and or family. Though given family circumstance, he could understand why there were no happy smiling family portraits up on the walls. There was one singular picture on a wall. A somewhat creepy looking fiery red blob amongst a sea of black. In fact, it looked like Sauron was keeping an eye on the house.

The remote for the forty eight inch flat screen mounted on the wall was on the arm of the couch. He pressed the ‘standby’ button and the screen flicked into life. A speaker symbol bottom left of the screen had a line through it. Simon pressed the ‘mute’ button on the handset and some bland old bloke in a suit started droning on about something called ‘commodities’ Simon peered at the handset till he found ‘Guide’. The programmer popped up on screen. The TV was on some business channel. He flicked through till he found a music channel. Returning the remote to its position on the armrest, he pulled out his phone and texted the pictures to his mom. He smiled as he hit ‘send’ knowing that the pictures were really going to infuriate her.

“What are you smiling about?” Amy entered the room, dressed in simple grey jogging bottoms and matching top. She was busily towelling her hair dry, or at least, dryer. She slumped down next to him on the couch, drawing her legs up under her.

‘I texted mum some pictures. You know, to prove that I’m not in some drug den.”

“You said you were going to do that. Remember...”

“I was just picturing her face when she sees them. She is soooo going to be pissed off.”

“Well, she always did like a good old ‘I told you so’ comment, so it will do her good to be denied for a change.” They shared a laugh. Amy dropped the towel onto the laminate flooring and picked up a brush to start attacking her tangles.

“What, you know, caused you to leave home?”

Amy sighed and paused in her brushing. She eventually shrugged. “There are over nine trillion nerves in the human body and we each get on every single one of the others.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t really the answer he expected or wanted but it was apparent that it was the only one he would get. They lapsed into a silence disturbed only by the sound of plastic through hair.

“What’s with the hair anyhow?” Amy eventually asked “Are you a metal fan?”

“Fuck no! Some bloke screaming into a microphone to the accompaniment of a brass band falling down a flight of stairs? Please...”

“So what music genre are you into then?”

“I dunno, anything with a tune and lyrics you can hum along to.”

“like?”

“I like...” He paused to think of his favourite bands, “Enya and...”

“ENYA!”

“What’s up with Enya?”

Amy prodded him with a toe “Hello! The nineties want their music back ... You weren’t even born then!”

“Well what do you like then?”

“Beyoncé, Lana Del Rey, James Blunt”

“Eurgh, slash my wrists now”

Amy stuck her tongue out and dug her big toe into his side, making him squirm. “So the hair, if you aren’t a metaler?”

“I dunno really. I think I was attempting to be a rebel in school”

“The family bloodline rears its head.” Amy laughed”

“Possibly. Anyway. The school has a strict guideline about haircuts and hair length, and I was pushing the boundary. Only the school didn’t push back and it kept getting longer and longer, and well I got used to it I suppose.”

Amy finished brushing her hair “Turn round.”

“What?”

“Turn round, face that wall.”

“Why?”

“Do you always ask so many questions, just shut up and do it.”

Simon turned his back to her and he felt her hands on his ponytail. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up and stop moving.”

He felt the tatty elastic band he used pulled from his hair “Ouch!”

“Man-up.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “You have lovely soft hair.”

“I don’t know how to take that!”

“As a compliment. Stop squirming.” He felt the brush dragged though his hair “Do you ever brush it?”

“Why would I do that?”

Amy rolled her eyes “Boys...”

Simon looked up the picture on the wall. “What IS that?”

“Hmm? Oh that! It’s a picture of a Red Dwarf star, taken by the astrophysicist Rob Naylor in 1988.”

“You’re weird. That tickles...” Amy rapped the brush against his skull “Ow!”

“I told you to stop squirming.” After she detangled his hair she put the brush aside.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Giving you a French plait, it looks neater than the mess you had.”

“That’s for girls!” Simon tried to pull away.

She dragged his head back “Stop being so sexist. I’d forgotten how much I’d enjoyed plaiting hair.” Amy slipped the tatty elastic band back over the little straggle of hair at the end, making a mental note to get him something better. She checked her watch. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I dunno. Hang out with you?”

She hugged him tightly “Awe you’re such a sweetie. Hungry?”

“Starving!”

“What do you eat?”

“Pretty much anything.”

“Quiche and chips?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

Amy stood from the couch and padded softly into the kitchen. Unsure what to do, Simon followed her, watching her as she pulled stuff from the tall fridge freezer. She spun dials on the cooker and flicked a switch on the wall and the cooker lit up. She glanced his way. “Is there a girlfriend?”

“I’m only fourteen!”

“So? Is there?”

“Um no.” He blushed.

“But there is one you have your eye on...”

“There’s a couple...” He admitted.

“A couple!! I’m in the presence of a Lothario...” She laughed.

“I don’t even know what that is. Wait! Are you mocking me?”

Amy held up her right hand and bookended a small gap between thumb and forefinger. “Just a small bit. How’s school?”

“Alright.”

“Your grades?”

Simon shrugged “My last report card says I’m positioned in the middle of the class academically.”

Amy snorted. “I didn’t even complete school, left before the final exams.”

“What do you actually do? Mum and dad never said.”

“Because they don’t know. I’m a self-employed personal and corporate hospitality manager.”

“Oh.” Simon hadn’t a clue what all that meant.

“Any hobbies?”

“Does Playstation count?”

“I suppose it does these days.”

“Is that a printer on the desk in my room?”

“Not quite. It’s a type of plotter. Do you know what that is?” Simon nodded. They had one in the technology class. They used it to print circuits “Well, it can be fitted with either a pen or a blade to cut out or draw shapes in paper.”

“Like card making?”

“Yes! For exactly that.” Amy slipped two plates into the grill and nodded towards a drawer. “Knives and forks are in there.” Simon opened the indicated drawer and retrieved the requisite cutlery.

They had just finished the meal when his phone rang. He looked at the screen. He looked towards his sister apologetically “Mum”

She waved him away.” I’ll take care of the washing up.”

“Hi mum.” He moved to the front of the house and slipped out the door. “Everything’s cool. Yes, I have my own room. No. there isn’t anyone else in the house. No, it’s not a drug den. No, there are no needles and condoms scattered all over the floor. Did you not see the pictures I sent? It’s not even a flat! It’s a bungalow, in a quiet neighbourhood.” Simon sighed “Look everything is fine mum, enjoy your holiday. She’s a manager in a firm. No I don’t know which one. Yes. Yes. I will do. Uh-huh. Okay. Yep I get it. I will behave. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine, enjoy your holiday.” It was a relief when his mother finally hung up.

Back in the house, his sister was curled back up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. “I didn’t pour you one, sorry.”

“It’s okay; I don’t like the stuff anyway”

“There’s fruit juice in the fridge.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine” He slumped down next to her on the couch. “Mother. Just checking that you hadn’t murdered me.”

“I was planning on doing that tomorrow night. You know, after they were already airborne.”

“Good to know.”

There was a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing. Amy turned and draped her legs across his thighs. Suddenly out of the blue, Simon had a vivid memory of her doing the very same thing years ago when he was little.

“What?” Amy enquired of the expression on his face

“I just had a sudden and unexpected memory from the past.”

“A good one?”

“Yes.”

She sipped her wine. Mischievously, he reached down and tickled the sole of her foot. She squealed and batted his hand away with her foot before returning it to his lap. Amy flicked through the channels till she found a film they both didn’t mind watching.

As the end credits rolled, Amy stretched and declared that she was going to bed. Simon nodded and watched her out the corner of his eye as she left the room. He heard the latch on the front door drop and her bedroom door shut softly.

Now that it had been mentioned, he found himself tired as well and headed to what would his room for the next three weeks. The springs creaked every time he moved but the bed itself was comfy enough and within a few minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was fast asleep.

The next morning he awoke to one of the best smells in the world. Cooking bacon. He slipped on some clothes and made his way to the kitchen. Amy was dressed in jeans and plain white T-shirt that did nothing to hide the curves underneath. Simon tried not to stare.

“Good timing little bro!” Amy slapped some bacon onto some buttered rolls, and handed him one.

He took a deep bite “Mmm delicious.” He said around a mouth full of chewed bread and pig product.

Amy took a bite of her own Bacon butty. “Well, I now know you are not a vegetarian.”

Amy laughed. “I like to wrap my mouth round a nice thick sausage.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it and Simon had the feeling that he was missing something obvious in her comment. He couldn’t work out what.

“Do you not have work to go Amy?”

“I booked a few days off.”

“Cool!”

Amy looked towards the dishes. “There is a rule is this house. Those that don’t cook, wash up.”

“What happens when you are on your own?”

“Then I’m shit out of luck.”

Dutifully Simon washed up. “Town?” he asked as he dried the last plate.

“Town.” Amy agreed, as she slipped on a pair of trainers and lifted a set of keys from a table in the hallway. The BMW beeped as Amy locked the door of the bungalow.

“We going in the beamer?”

“Unless you want to walk?”

“Erm, nope!” The leather creaked a Simon settled into the seat. The car smelled faintly of pine. With a quiet rumble, the engine purred into life. He glanced at the gear lever “Manual?”

“Yes, Why?”

“Dunno, thought you would be more the automatic type.”

“Never!”

Simon laughed “Why?”

“You need to ask?”

“Huh?”

Amy paused before replying as she negotiated the junction of the cul-de-sac onto the main road. The BMW accelerated with a smooth growl as she matched speed with the morning traffic. She looked over to him. “Do you really think I like people telling me what to do, how to live my life?”

Simon thought back to some of the spectacular arguments that he had heard as a child. “No.” He laughed.

“Then why would I allow a mere car to dictate to me when it’s time to change gear.”

“Fair point, now you put it that way. Are you still planning on murdering me tonight?”

“I’ve decided to give you a reprieve for a few days.”

“Yay! Go me go!”

“Though I’m now thinking that I might have been a bit too hasty with that decision.”

“Boo!”

Amy parked up in a large multi-story carpark attached to a substantial shopping centre. Simon had no specific need or requirement for anything, so was just happy enough to follow his older sisters lead as they slowly walked along the shop fronts whilst they continued to catch up on what each other had been getting up to over the intervening years. There were a few really interesting looking toy shops that he wouldn’t have minded exploring further, but didn’t want to appear so childish in front of Amy. He had to fight the urge to look back as they walked past.