Chapter 2

I spent the rest of the afternoon working on programming examples until I heard my sister slammed the front door behind her as she got home from school just after four.

I could tell it was her by the way she came bounding up the stairs.

My door was open, so she walked into my room.

“Hey bro,” she said, with a smile.

“Hey Pip,” I replied, “how was school?”

“Oh, just normal,” she said, “we’re sort of winding down towards the summer holidays.”

“Well, next year will be hectic, with GCSEs and all that.”

“I’ve already taken six,” she said, proudly.

“That’s great and how do you think you’ve done?”

“Oh, the two Englishes I’ve definitely passed, History, Geography and French probably and I’m not too sure about Art. But whatever I do pass, gives me more time next year to concentrate on what I really do want to get.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Chemistry, Physics, Biology, Human Biology and Maths.”

“Still intent on medical school?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said.

“That’s good, just don’t let your ambition lead your life. Remember to live as well.”

“Talking of people who let their ambitions lead their lives,” she said, “you’re still planning to take her out to talk to her this weekend right?”

“If she wants to talk to me, I will,” I agreed, “but I’m not going to make the first move.”

“Well, if she does, promise me you’ll talk.”

“All right,” I said, “I promise I’ll talk to her if she asks for it.”

She kissed my cheek and left, calling out, “Thanks bro,” as she did.

I pressed the F5 key to compile and run my programme, then started going through the error messages.

It’s a strange thing about programming errors, you can get a long list of error messages when you compile it but when you work out what went wrong, it can often be one or two very minor errors, that cause others down the line. Fix the cause and you can fix a lot of errors at once. I’d just found the last of them when Alison called up the stairs, “Cal’s home.”

I acknowledged the fact and went back to my corrections, made the last one and hit F5 again. No error messages.

Satisfied with my progress I went downstairs and poured myself a mug of coffee, took it into the living room and used the remote to turn on the TV.

Five o’clock on Friday afternoon was never the best time to watch British TV unless you’re about eleven years old. I wasn’t, so I turned it off and decided to walk around next door and say hello to Cal.

As I stepped out of the front door, I stopped. Looking over at the Warner house, I saw Cal’s Citroen on the driveway and a tall blond guy about our age taking two bags out of the boot. I quickly stepped back into the house and closed the door. It looked decidedly like Cal and I no longer had anything to talk about.

Mum arrived about fifteen minutes later and I asked her what time we were eating.

“About seven,” she said, “we’re eating next door. It will give you a chance to talk to Cal.”

“I don’t think there’s a need anymore,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Something to do with the nearly six-foot blond guy she brought home with her,” I said, “I think the Cal and David ship has sailed.”

“That can’t be right,” she said, “she knew you were coming home and wanted to talk this weekend.”

I held my hand up to stop her.

“Mum, it’s all right,” I said, “she’s entitled to have another boyfriend if that’s what she wants, I had Sandy, I was seeing a girl for a while three weeks ago. We haven’t been together since last September. I got the impression at Christmas that she wanted to talk things out and see what, if anything, we could salvage of our relationship. I obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion. It’s no big deal. As I said, I think the need for us to talk has been removed. I’m only surprised that her mother never mentioned her bringing her boyfriend home with her when she took me to college this afternoon.”

“So you’ll be coming round to dinner with us then?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, “I don’t think that would be fair on him, whatever his name is.”

“Peter,” Mum said.

“So you knew about him?” I asked, “And didn’t think to mention it?”

She didn’t answer, nor did she look me in the eye.

“Thanks, Mum,” I said, “I’m going to go and eat out. I’ll see you at bedtime.”

I marched upstairs, got a jacket suitable for the warm evening and walked out through the front door headed into town.

I walked up to the top of Carlton Street at the top of which was something I had really missed for the past six months, the Acme fish and chip shop and its upstairs sit-down café. OK, so it was Formica-topped tables and plastic chairs, but the food was good. I ordered the special, Fish, chips and mushy peas, tea and bread and butter. Although I asked for a diet Pepsi instead of the tea.

Once I’d finished and paid it was still early, so I took a stroll round to the club where there was usually entertainment on weekend nights and Sunday afternoons. The attraction that night was a band the Spectres, who did a lot of covers of Phil Spector songs.

We all liked the club, it had one great thing going for it, Walt, the steward. He didn’t pay much regard to most of the licensing laws and so long as you looked a reasonable facsimile of over eighteen, he’d serve you alcohol, or at least beer.

I had nothing particularly against beer, so I never drank a lot, but for some reason, I felt like having a few that night.

I was standing at the bar, half-way through my third pint, admittedly, the most I’d ever drunk and feeling it when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“David, you need to come home,” a soft voice said.

“I don’t want to,” I said, “I’d much rather stay here.”

“No, everybody is worried about you,” she said, “come on, leave that and let’s go home.”

I picked up the pint and took a mouthful, swallowed it and turned back to her.

“No thanks, Aunt Mary,” I said, “my new friend here and I are just getting to know each other.”

“She’s hurt you again, hasn’t she?” she said.

I looked at her and took another mouthful.

“Look, if you’re going to stay here, let’s go find a couple of seats somewhere and I’ll stay with you, then when you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”

We found a table in the lounge and at least I was sitting down.

“You never mentioned she was bringing her boyfriend home this weekend,” I said.

“I didn’t know,” she said, “she says that she forgot that it was this weekend that you were coming home and she wanted me to meet this boy.”

“Do you believe that?” I asked, “or do you think it’s her revenge for Sandy? You know, you had a girlfriend, so I can have a boyfriend?”

“Whatever it is,” she said, “I don’t think it was vindictive. She was genuinely talking last week of a new start with you, becoming friends again and seeing if the pair of you could develop something deeper again.”

“Which is the place I’d come to,” I said, “but, she’s decided to go in a different direction, so, I’ll wish them well and quietly bow out. But I think I’ll be spending weekends away until it’s time to go down to Pinewood.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, “you and her could still be friends.”

“Mary,” I asked, “how long have you known about him?”

“Since two weeks ago, she told me she’d met this boy and she wanted me to meet him.”

I don’t think the fact that I’d dropped the Aunt escaped her.

“And yet you didn’t tell me that she had a boyfriend this afternoon. Don’t you think that would have been helpful?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” she said, “but she wasn’t bringing him as far as I knew and she wanted to tell you everything herself when you spoke.”

“I suppose that was reasonable,” I said, before finishing my pint, “I suppose I’d better go home then.”

“I’ll ring them and tell them we’re on our way,” she said.

I reached out and placed my hand on top of hers on the table.

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?”

“For caring,” I added, “just one other thing.”

“What?”

“When you call home, tell them that I won’t be coming in until I see Cal walk into your house.”

“What if she’s not at yours?” she asked.

“I know Cal,” I replied, “give them the message.”

She called home and told them that she had me with her, that we were talking and that we’d be home soon.

“And Pat,” she added, “tell Cal to go home.”

She listened for a few seconds; I couldn’t tell what Mum was saying but her voice must have gone an octave higher.

“No Pat, he does not want to talk to her right now and he has told me, quite firmly that he won’t enter the house until he sees her in ours.”

Once again, I could hear Mum’s voice, but not make out the words. “She wants to speak to you,” Pat said, holding her phone out to me.

I took it, put it to my ear and spoke.

“Yes, Mum,” I said, sadly, I was pretty sure that, even after three pints, I knew what was coming next.

I was right.

“Now, David, why don’t you come home and talk to Cal like a responsible adult?” she asked, that bit was new, it used to be ‘stop acting like a petulant child.’

“Mum, for the past few weeks, I’ve been told ‘Cal is really looking forward to you coming home David, she’s very excited and wants to sit down with you and talk things out and see if you can rescue your relationship, be friends again and maybe even get back to how you were before. It was important to her.’ Yes, so important that, apparently, she completely forgot I would be home this weekend and decided to bring her boyfriend with her. No, Mum. I’ll talk to her, but it will be in my time and on my terms and if she can’t accept that, then sorry, I wish the pair of them every happiness, but no thanks.”

“David James Barker, you will come home this minute,” she said, getting angry.

“Mum,” I replied, “Very well, I will. I’ll come home, go upstairs to my bedroom, pack my things and move out. If you can’t accept my decision then I refuse to live with you anymore.”

“Young man while you live under my roof, you will live by my rules.”