Chapter 24

I decided to take the quick way back home, a five-minute walk to the railway station and the seven-minute journey in (relative) comfort, rather than twenty or so minutes on a bus. On arrival, a three-minute walk down Station Road took me to our favourite watering hole, the Blue Cup café.

Mark looked up as I walked in.

“Hey, it’s our resident film star,” he called out, “how are you, David?”

“Embarrassed,” I replied.

“Embarrassed?” he queried, “why?”

“You just outed me in front of all these people,” I answered.

All these people were, in fact, an elderly couple and a young girl of about three. Presumably, grannie and granddad were looking after their granddaughter for the day.

“You’re a film star?” the old lady asked, rather incredulously, “or is he pulling your leg?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to call me a star,” I replied, “but I had a supporting role in a Hollywood film last year and played the part of a policeman’s son in a TV miniseries as well.”

“Oh, when was that on?” she asked, “we usually watch police shows.”

“I think it’s being shown later this year,” I replied.

“It must be very exciting,” The old lady said, “making a film.”

“It’s mainly very boring,” I replied, “you spend most of the day sitting around reading, then have a few minutes of intense activity, then sitting again. We work twelve to fourteen hours a day, and if we’re lucky we end up with two or three minutes of the completed film.”

“So it’s not all champagne and parties then?” her husband asked.

“Far from it,” I replied.

We were broken off by the arrival of three of my school mates. Keith was the first, closely followed by John Springall and Mike Ashman.

We were all going to New College and all studying Maths, so Mike had come up with the idea of us getting together a couple of times a week to help each other out.

“So how would we work this study group thing?” John asked as we all settled around a corner table, a drink in front of each of us.

“The way I thought it out was that we’d all get together at one of us’ house a couple of times a week, and work through any problems we were having with the coursework,” I explained.

“I can’t take part then,” John said, “there’s no space at our house big enough for us all to work in.”

“Then we’ll do your turns at mine,” I said, “I have a big bedroom, and we can put a table in there big enough for us all to sit around.”

I knew John quite well but didn’t know Mike at all. He’d just moved to the area and was a neighbour of John’s. John had asked if he could join us.

“Actually,” Keith interjected, “why don’t we just meet at my place. There’s a meeting room upstairs that Dad just uses to store junk in, so that would be ideal, also, it has a big table and plenty of chairs.”

“Are you sure your Dad won’t mind us traipsing through his pub?” I asked.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t, but I’ll ask him, just to be on the safe side,” he replied, “he’s used to you and the gang visiting.”

“Right then,” John said, “are we all agreed, twice a week?”

“I think so,” Keith replied, “but I think we should hold off deciding exactly when until we have our timetables sorted out tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Mike said, “we’ll be better off waiting.”

We stayed for another half an hour, discussing life in general and what we’d done over the summer. Mike was particularly keen to know why I’d spent most of the summer across the Atlantic.

“You mean you don’t know?” Keith asked.

“Know what?” Mike replied.

“Have you seen Space Academy?”

“Yes,” he replied, “why?”

“Take a good look at David.”

He did that and, eventually, recognition dawned on his face.

“Oh, shit,” he said, sharply, “you’re fucking Greg Paradise.”

“No,” Keith replied, “he’s fucking his girlfriend Cal. He plays Greg Paradise in the film though.”

“Keith,” I growled at him.

He just held up his hands and shrugged.

“So, you’re like a film star?” Mike said, “but why did you spend the summer overseas?”

“Pre-publicity for the next Star Academy film,” I replied.

“What do you have to do for that?” John asked.

“Appear on a few TV chat shows, radio interviews that sort of thing,” I replied.

“It must be great,” Mike said, “all those girls chasing after you.”

“I’m only interested in one,” I replied, “and she’s already caught me.”

“Well, if you want to chuck a few of your spares my way, I won’t complain,” he answered.

“See Keith for that,” I replied, “he’s our resident pimp.”

“Hey,” Keith complained, “I resemble that remark.”

“Make a note of that,” John interjected, “Keith admits he looks like a pimp.”

“I do not,” Keith protested.

“Put it to a vote?” I asked.

All three of us raised our hands.

“I think I may hate you guys,” Keith muttered.

That was my cue to leave.

“I have to get this stuff back home,” I explained, “Nice meeting you Mike, I’ll see you all tomorrow at college.”

“Yeah, see you,” they all intoned as I left.

When I got outside, I called a private hire company and ordered a car to take me home, I didn’t fancy joining a bus queue with my arms full of bags, a car was easier. One pulled up within a couple of minutes and as I opened the door, the driver looked at me.

“David?” he asked, and I confirmed it.

“Where to?” he added, I gave him my address.

He dropped me off a few minutes later, and after I paid him, I walked down the drive and let myself into the house.

It was empty, so I took my purchases upstairs to my room, and placed them, all but the three subject folders, in my school backpack.

Mum came in a little after three, followed about ten minutes later by my sister.

As always, Alison headed straight for the kitchen, got three chocolate digestive biscuits from the barrel on the work surface and poured herself a glass of milk. Then she took them upstairs to her bedroom and started on her homework. She was most definitely the most academically inclined of the three of us. Andy and I had always had a fairly cavalier attitude to homework, usually leaving it until the night before it was due to be handed in, but not Alison, she came home and got it finished, then she relaxed. I put it down to her oft-stated intention to be a doctor. She knew it was the hardest subject to get into University to study, and one of the longest and hardest courses when you got there. I had a lot of respect for my sister and her work ethic. I just wish my brother (and I for that matter) had the same level of dedication.

I was interrupted in my musings on work ethics by the arrival of my girlfriend.

I stood up and greeted her with a kiss.

“Hi sweetie,” I said afterwards, “how was your first day in sixth-form college?”

“Don’t ask,” she snapped, “the school is OK, but the boys. Argh!.”

“Problems?” I asked.

“Problems?” she spat, “the boys there think that just because I’m not walking down the corridor holding hands with someone, they can take liberties.”

“Liberties?” I asked, feeling a little angry, “what kind of liberties?”

“Oh, nothing too serious,” she replied, “just standing a little too close, touching that sort of thing. Would you believe one bozo actually walked up to me in the classroom and said ‘Hi, I’m your date for the Christmas dance?”

“I can believe somebody would say that,” I replied, “I hope you told him you’d be going with me?”

“That’s the problem, it’s students only, no outsiders,” she replied, “I told him that I’d be busy that night.”

I chuckled.

“Then the captain of the football team, who informed me that I would be the Posh to his David,” she continued.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I already had my David so, no thanks,” she replied.

“Well, that settled his hash,” I answered.

“Then he asked me which I’d prefer, a world-famous football star or some builder’s labourer from Cas’?”

“And?”

“And I told him, I would, in fact, actually prefer a decent guy, who wasn’t full of himself, and that it wouldn’t hurt if he was also a world-famous Hollywood star.”

“I bet that deflated his ego a bit,” I said.

“Not a bit of it,” she replied, “he just said ‘yes, like a big Hollywood star is going to be interested in some piece of skirt from Castleford.”

I could feel my anger rising.

“Piece of skirt?” I spat, “I think I need to have a chat with this idiot.”

“Not necessary,” she replied, “an old friend straightened him out.”

“An old friend?” I queried, “Who?”

“Would you believe Solly?” she replied, “he was passing and heard us. He told him two things, one exactly who my boyfriend was, and secondly, that he’d tried to part us a couple of years ago, and that it hadn’t ended happily, for him.”

“I’ll have to thank him next time I see him,” I said, “but there’s something I want to talk with you about.”

“What?” she asked, looking worried.

“No need to look worried,” I reassured her, “your Mum and I were talking, and she told me about the scholarship offer from Chethams.”

“She shouldn’t have told you about that,” she replied.

“But she did,” I answered, “tell me, hand on heart, would you rather have gone there?”

She looked at me and sighed deeply.

“Artistically yes,” she replied, “but I didn’t want to be so far away from you for weeks at a time.”

“We’ve just been apart for weeks at a time,” I reminded her.

“Yes,” she agreed, “and I missed you every second of every day.”

“This is different though,” I said, “it’s only forty miles or so from here to the middle of Manchester, I can be there in an hour and a half, heck, I could come over after school and still get home before bedtime. And if that’s the best place to help you achieve your ambition, then that’s where you should go. Cal, I so don’t want to lose you, but I won’t stand in the way of that. Why don’t you ring them and see if the offer’s still open?”

“What?” she exclaimed, “do you mean that you’d be all right with me going?”

“Of course,” I replied, “Cal if you’d told me about it earlier, you’d be there now.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t,” she said softly.

“Glad? Why?” I asked, incredulously.

“Because if I was over there, I couldn’t drag you round to my house and into my bedroom. Where I will insist on you ravishing me mightily.”

“I think someone is reading too much Shakespeare,” I muttered, as she grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the back door.

In Cal’s house, she just called ‘Hi Mum’ as we dashed past the living room door and up the stairs.

As Cal closed the bedroom door behind her, I heard Aunt Mary’s voice call out.

“Dinner in an hour, kids,” she called, “don’t be too long. David. I’ll let your Mum know you’re eating here. It’s Lasagne and salad.”

“I wish you could stay,” Cal whispered in my ear.

Fifty minutes later as we lay cuddled together, Cal’s breathing slowly returning to normal after her fourth orgasm, there was a light tap on the door.

“Dinner in ten,” her mother called out, “you just have time for a shower if you’re quick.”

“Or we go in together,” Cal suggested.

Cal’s suggestion won, which made us five minutes late for dinner.

“How was the first day at the new schools?” her mother asked as we ate.

“I don’t start until tomorrow,” I reminded her.

“And mine was terrible,” Cal responded, “the boys there seem to think that the girls are there purely for their pleasure. Mum, David has suggested that I contact Chetham’s and ask if the offer is still open. What do you think?”

“I think what I’ve always thought darling,” her Mum replied, “although I don’t want you to go away then, if that’s what’s best for your future I’m all for it. What do you think David?”

“Like you, I don’t want to see Cal go away,” I replied, “but it’s only in five-week chunks, and she’s only forty miles away. I was thinking that if she went, I’d buy a motorbike, so I could go over and visit her.”

“Your Mum might have something to say about that,” she replied, “but you’ll be seventeen in May, then you’ll be able to have a car.”

“If I can get through the driving test,” I said.

Cal leaned across and kissed my cheek.

“Let coming to spend the night with me serve as your motivation,” she said.

“I don’t need motivation,” I said, “but if I did, I couldn’t think of a better one.”

“David are you really all right with me doing this?”

“Of course I am,” I replied, “I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.”

“Can you ring Chetham’s tomorrow morning and find out if the offer is still available?” Cal asked her mother, “otherwise the whole thing’s academic.”

“Thank you,” Cal said, “and thank you, David.”

“You know,” I said, gently, “I already told you that if you’d told me about the offer when you’d got it, you’d probably be there now.”

“I know,” she replied, sadly, “I’m sorry, but I just, that is I always think about what would happen if you said no. Would I end up resenting you for it? And would that rip us apart?”

“Cal, I can’t stop you doing anything,” I said, “I can only say whether I think you should do something or not.”

“Cal,” her mother interrupted, “David’s right. He can express an opinion, but the decisions have to be yours.”

“But if I don’t agree with him,” Cal protested, almost in tears.

“If you don’t agree with me then we won’t agree,” I replied, “but I’ll still support you.”

“Cal,” her mother interjected, “how many times have you and I had a screaming match at each other?”

I couldn’t help the guffaw that escaped me at the idea of the two of them screaming at each other. They both favoured me with a glare. I held my hands up in surrender.

“And did you stop loving me, because of that?” Aunt Pat asked.

“No,” Cal replied.

“And do you still believe that I love you?”

“Yes of course.”

“Then why should David stop loving you, just because you don’t agree on something?”

“But he might,” Cal objected, near tears again.

I reached out and took her hand in mine.

“Cal,” I said softly, “I can’t think of anything you could do to make me stop loving you. There might be times when I stop liking you for a while but stop loving you? That’s never going to happen.”

She let go of my hand and walked over and deposited herself on my lap. The kiss she gave me was a scorcher, and had, of course, the inevitable result.

“Do I need to get a bucket of water?” her mother asked.

Cal broke off from kissing me.

“No thanks Mum, we’re managing fine on our own,” she replied, then got back to the business in hand.

The kissing was nice, but I needed a little time to er, calm down before I could stand up to load the dishwasher, so I gently separated our lips.

Cal let out a little whine of disappointment as we disengaged but hopped off of me and resumed her normal seat.

“I’d better get back home,” I said once the machine was full, “I need to get ready for school tomorrow.”

“Can’t you stay a little while longer?” Cal asked.

“Cal, he has school tomorrow,” her mother interrupted, “and so do you.”

After a goodnight kiss and a quick peck on the cheek from Cal’s Mum, I walked round to next door and let myself in.

I just said goodnight to the family and went up to my room to get my things ready. Once I had my bag ready to go, I turned my TV on, got undressed and climbed into bed.

I must have been tired because the next thing I knew, the TV was showing some mindless old horror film from the thirties and when I checked it was nearly two am. I turned off the TV and the light and settled down to sleep.

On Tuesday morning, I was awake early, showered, dressed and breakfasted before seven-thirty. I needed to be, I had to be out on the main road by seven forty-five to catch the bus to school. It was the first time in my life I hadn’t been able to walk to school. It was also the first day that Cal and I would be in school, but not the same one. I think that was what bothered me more than anything.

Still, I finished my coffee, picked up my bag and was on my way out of the door when Dad emerged from the bedroom.

“Off already son?” he asked.

“Bus at a quarter to,” I explained.

“You should get yourself a motorbike,” he suggested.

“I thought of that last night, but I suspect Mum would have kittens,” I replied.

“She doesn’t even like cats,” he quipped.

“That’s what makes the idea worse,” I replied as I walked out of the back door.

The bus was three things. Crowded, dirty and late. The motorbike idea was most definitely looking good. I found a seat by the window and settled into it.

At the next stop, more people got on, and now it was standing room only. I wondered what happened if the bus reached its capacity and there were still people wanting to get on. I was still thinking that one over when I felt a body take the seat beside me.

“Hi,” a light soprano voice said, “what time does the bus get to school?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied, “it’s my first day.”

“Mine too,” she said sticking her hand out, “I’m Melanie, by the way, Melanie Corbett, no relation, but everybody just calls me Mel.”

I shook the proffered hand.

“David,” I announced myself, “David Barker.”

“Like the film star?” she asked.

“Film star?” I queried.

“You know, David J. Barker, from Star Academy,” she replied.

“No,” I said quietly, “not like him.”

“Have you ever met him, he’s from Castleford like you,” she asked.

“So are you, have you ever met him?”

“No, we’ve just moved here,” she replied, “but you’re a local, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, “and no I’ve never met him.”

“I thought you probably would have in a small town like this,” she said.

“I think I can safely say I never will,” I replied.

“Oh, why’s that?” she asked.

Instead of replying I opened my wallet took out my SAG membership card and handed it to her.

She took the card, looked at it, turned to look at me, then her mouth dropped open and she turned bright red.

“Oh,” she said, then started to stammer, “I’m so, I’m, I, er, sorry.”

I laughed softly.

“Don’t worry about it Mel,” I told her, “actually it’s quite refreshing. I’m more used to girls coming up to me and saying, ‘you’re him, aren’t you? You’re Greg Paradise’”

“But I’m so embarrassed,” she answered, “I’ve even got your poster up on my wall, and I didn’t recognise you.”

“Well I am wearing a spacesuit on that, and I had been through hair and make-up, which I pretty obviously haven’t this morning.”

“But it’s the first thing I see every morning,” she said, “and I’m sat right next to you and didn’t recognise you.”

“Maybe I’m not as big and handsome in real life,” I suggested.

“Oh, you are,” she replied, “oh, shit. When you said your name was David Barker, I thought you were going to try and convince me that you were him, you, to try and get in my knickers.”

I looked at her and smiled.

“I’d never try and get in your knickers,” I answered.

“What?” she demanded, “aren’t I pretty enough or something?”

“No, you’re pretty enough” I replied, “it’s just that they’d be too small for me.”

That made her laugh and eased the tension that I could feel growing.

“Mel,” I said, looking at her, she had violet eyes, “I’m just David, a Castleford schoolboy, or sixth form student, or whatever they’re going to call us, nothing special, I made a film. I’ll make another next summer but, basically, for the next five years, I’m going to be a student. As is my girlfriend.”

“The one you ran off to LA with?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “she’s going to do Music while I do Computing. Probably at Manchester.”

“Why bother with Uni if you’re going to carry on making films?” she asked.

“Because I want something that will let me support a family, if the film thing just stops,” I replied.

“But don’t actors get, like, millions?” she said.

“The big-name, star part actors do, but most make a lot less,” I answered.

She changed the subject back to school.

“So, what A levels are you doing? Maths and Computing?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, “I’m hoping Maths and Business. What about you?”

“Chemistry, Physics, Biology,” she answered.

“Don’t tell me, you want to be a doctor?” I said.

“Got it in one,” she answered.

“My sister does too,” I said.

“How old is she?” she asked.

“Fifteen, she starts GCSEs this year,” I replied.

“About the age that I was when I made the same decision,” she said.

The bus pulled up outside the school, and we all trooped out. Just inside the main entrance door, there was a sign directing all new students to the sports hall, with an arrow pointing in the correct direction. Mel and I followed it. There was a dais at one end and about a hundred chairs set out in rows in the body of the sports hall. Everybody found seats and, for the next few minutes others kept trickling in and either finding old school friends and joining them or just taking the closest seat.

At exactly eight-thirty a bell rang, and Mel turned to me.

“Pavlov’s dogs?” she asked, her eyebrows arched high up her forehead.

“Something like that,” I agreed.

Shortly after the bell, a man in a suit walked onto the dais.

“Good morning,” he said, “my name is Mr Dawson, and for my sins, I’m the head of the sixth form in this place. I’d like to start by welcoming you all to New College and to thank you for choosing us.”

“Mr Dawson?” I said quietly, “doesn’t he have a first name?”

“Of course he does, it’s Mister,” Mel whispered back.

Mr Dawson carried on.

“This morning we’re going to split you up into your forms. Your form teacher will then collect you and take you on a tour of the sixth form centre, and the relevant parts of the rest of the school. We offer three streams in the sixth form, Science, Arts and Humanities. The form that you are placed in will depend on the A levels you study. If you choose a path that includes two sciences and one arts subject you’ll be placed in the science stream, or the arts stream if it’s vice versa. If you study one subject from each stream, then you’ll be in the humanities stream. All of you will have one hour of PE and one hour of games each week, and you will all be studying for the general studies A level as well as your three chosen subjects.”

He paused to let this sink in.

“Any questions?” he asked.

Nobody raised a hand.

“Good. Now arts and sciences. Students with surnames ending A to I will be in Lower sixth arts, or sciences one. J to R will be in two, and the rest of you in three. Humanities students, there will only be two classes of you, so, surnames A to L in one, the rest in two. You’ll see them around the place labelled, as an example, L6A2, L6S3 or L6H1. Is that clear?”

There was a general hum of content.

Eventually, we were rounded up by our form teacher, Mrs Benton, and taken on a tour of the facilities, then to our form room where we all chose our desks and waited for the next stage. Mel chose the seat next to me.

The next stage was Mrs B handing out our individual timetables, I discovered that I had no classes in common with Mel, which seemed to disappoint her more than it did me.

The only complication I had was that I couldn’t do business studies, because of timetable clashes. There was no way I could fit it in with my two maths courses. Consequently, I chose to do computing instead. Probably, that was a wise move in terms of getting into University to study computing, but I felt that in real terms, business studies would have been better in the long run. Still, it was what it was, and I accepted the change.

After lunch, we were all surprised that we were to go to our normal timetabled lessons. My Tuesday afternoons were taken up with maths classes. Unfortunately, it was timetabled as further maths first followed by maths. This made sense on a normal week, but it did mean that our first lesson was on advanced topics, before we’d covered the basics.

That hour was my introduction to Boolean logic, a subject which would become very important in computing. WE finished the afternoon with a games session which was a waste of time since nobody had brought any kit with them. Instead, we were told about the sports facilities and teams and invited to sign up for any that caught our fancy. I thought playing Rugby again would be a good way to keep fit, or get injured depending on your point of view, and signed up for the team. Team practice was to be on Thursdays after school.

After that, it was time to catch the bus home. An experience which made me all the more determined to look into the motorbike idea.

One of the great mysteries of life is how, when her school is three times as far from home as mine, she managed to be sitting in my living room, chatting amicably with my sister when I walked in.

“How did you manage to get here so quickly?” I asked her.

“My bus route, partly,” she replied, “you see while your bus leaves from New College, then does Featherstone, Ackton, Altofts, Cutsyke, Castleford town centre, Glasshoughton and then here, this is the first stop for mine.”

“Ah, I see,” I answered.

“But in the particular case of today, Mum picked me up,” she explained, “and she wants us both next door, ASAP.”

I looked at my sister, shrugged and held out my hand to help Cal up.

“Let’s not keep her waiting then,” I said, “Chetham’s?”

“Yes,” she replied, “they’ve said a tentative yes.”

“Tentative?” I queried.

“Mum knows all about it,” Cal replied, “she’ll tell us when we get there.”

A couple of minutes later, Cal let us in to the back door of her house, and we found her mother in the lounge.

Cal gave her Mum a quick peck on the cheek, so I did the same and then we sat down, together, on the sofa.

“What did they say?” Cal asked.

“They really do want her there,” Aunt Mary replied, “but there’s a problem. Because we turned down the scholarship they offered, they gave it to the next person on the list.”

“So I could go but we’d have to pay the fees?” Cal asked.

“Not that bad,” she replied, “They have a fund that they can offer fee reductions for, and, in your case, they’re willing to offer full fees remission, but.”

“There’s always a but,” Cal said, a disappointed look on her face.

“We’d have to pay boarding fees, and extra instrument tuition fees,” her mother replied, “at least for the first term. Then, depending on your quote ‘academic and musical progress’ there’s a fund they could pay those from going forward.”

“How much are we talking?” I asked.

“Around four thousand pounds,” she said.

“Then there’s no problem,” I said, “I’ll pay that.”

“No, David, you won’t,” Aunt Mary said, “you can’t keep doing that. I’ve spoken to your Dad and told him that whatever you say, he’s not to give you, or us, the money. With the settlement from the hospital and the money from the German justice department, we can afford it.”

“Now how was your first day at the new school?” she asked.

“Boring, we spent the morning listening to how wonderful the place was, then getting to know our form teachers. I can’t do both maths exams and business studies, so I’ve had to switch to computing,” I answered, “then we started lessons in the afternoon, the first was quite interesting, formal logic, in further maths, which should come in handy for computing, then games, but most of us didn’t have our kit, so it was basically a talk on school sports teams and when they trained. I’m thinking of trying the rugby team this year.”

“Well, I hope you do,” she added, “are you sure you’re all right with this David?”

“What, Cal going to school in Manchester?” I replied, “yes, I’m fine with it. I’d rather she was with me, but there isn’t a place around here that does what both of us want. Anyway, it’s only five days a week, and in a few months, we’ll both be old enough to drive. It’s what, an hour away by car, two by train. And, I’m thinking of getting a motorbike.”

“Cool,” Cal said, “can I ride on the back?”

“Not until I pass my test,” I answered.

She leaned over to me and whispered into my ear.

“You can ride me any time you want, and you don’t need any test.”

I kissed her for the thought, then stood up from the sofa.

“I’d better get back next door, Mum should be home now,” I announced.

“OK,” Cal replied, “will I see you later?”

“Do you have homework?” her mother interjected.

“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be in for a week, it’s just simple four-part harmony.”

“Do you want to do something?” I asked, “how about the cinema?”

“We could just go for a walk,” she replied, “there isn’t anything I want to see.”

All right,” I said, “I’ll come and get you after you’ve done your homework. About seven.”