CHAPTER 26
Life went on. It sounds trite, but I came to realise that my decision to choose continuing to breathe had been made when I went out of a window in Runcorn; what followed was simply fine detail. It didn’t make the process of living any easier, but the days or hours I managed to get things into some sort of perspective kept me on some sort of even keel. In the end, I simply had to look at the two people who had rescued me for validation.

They had seen me at my worst, found me in the deepest of dark places, and simply lifted me up. All they had ever asked had been my company, and that had never been an explicit demand. We were simply a family. What more could I ever have asked? More importantly, what more could I find to give back? There are so many clichés people use, whether from laziness or simply from inability to find the right words for their feelings, and one of those sayings was there in front of me.

‘Could be worse’.

How well I knew that simple fact. Cling to the good bits, girl. ‘Count your blessings’, oh yes.

I still hurt, though, and so much of it was tied into my nature. I would never be, could never be, a natural woman, but a woman I was, that word seeming to fit better than ‘girl’ with each sunrise. Billy had been a construct of all sorts of things, including my parents, and simple bad luck in my genetics. Even though Debbie could never be ‘real’ in all things, she held far more reality in her than a small Welsh boy ever had.

It just hurt whenever I watched other girls. Rosie, in particular. We saw each other at rallies, of course, and over the years she had managed to surprise me more than once by turning up with father and brother at events I would have believed were well out of her area. I don’t think it was anything like Lorraine’s description of Grace, just someone who held her friends to her as something important. There were others, though, other faces that appeared more often than not, rallygoers rather than tradespeople like Fester, and I began to suspect that while Rosie was following me as a friend, there were young men following her for rather different reasons.

We visited home in Cannock just long enough to pick up my O-level results, which meant an evening sat around some of Carol’s tastiest finger food (and bottles of wine) as I put the moment off as long as I could before muttering something rude and tearing open the envelope.

English Language: Grade 1
English Literature: Grade 2
Maths: Grade 3
History: Grade 3
Geography: Grade 2
Science: Grade 2

I was officially qualified. The paper sat in my hand as I stared at the results, stunned that I had done so well. The grading system changed a year or so later, but just then, as long as you turned up, you would get one of eight numbered grades, one to six being regarded as passes. To put it into perspective, the grades I would have been awarded the next year would have been four As and two Bs. Not bad for a gyppo slut. Not at all bad for dead-loss Billy from Connah’s Quay.

We left the booze until Carol had taken some of my blood, of course, and by the time we were back on the road, I had another confirmation of my health and the direction my body was moving in. Mam and I celebrated by shopping for some bigger bras.

That Winter and Spring felt a little strange, as I had no textbooks to digest, no curriculum to follow. Mam and Dad kept the pressure on, though, insisting that I wasn’t to let the results be wasted. Alice’s words from ‘White Rabbit’ were always there at the front of my thinking, ‘Feed your head’, keep the learning process ticking over, and read for the love of it.

We hit the Fumble once again, just before my seventeenth birthday, and all was right with the world, as Billy hazed over in the distance of old memory.

“Badger!”

Dad looked up from another tray of fingerless mitts he was trying to squeeze in between the chained wallets and wrap-around shades.

“Hiya, son! Er, sorry, Carl. Just a bit hard to stay classy when you’ve known someone since they were in nappies”

The newcomer laughed, a deep, rich and happy sound.

“You and I will fall out, you old bastard! You down all weekend?”

“What do you think I am, son? Some lightweight of a bus-stop straight?”

Dad stepped out from behind the stand to hug the man, who looked to be in his early twenties. Their actions surprised me, because ‘Carl’ was wearing an MC’s full patch, and in my experience, patches—especially the newer or younger ones—tended to be rather prickly in their dignity and very, very observant of their personal space. As the young man grinned at Dad, I recognised him as a boy who had been at several other events, over most of the years I had been going to the same ones. My memory supplied another, simpler detail, which involved him occasionally sharing saliva with Rosie. He looked over Dad’s shoulder and grinned at me, which is when my stomach dropped several floors, taking my power of speech with it.

“Hiya, Debbie! Looking good, girl. How’d the exams go?”

I couldn’t answer him, teeth shining through his beard as his eyes twinkled, so Dad did his best.

“Got six good O-levels, mate! Done us proud!”

I finally found some words along with a smile, but I was blushing as I answered, the heat uncomfortable in my face.

“Was a bit shitty, taking them. School full of straights and arseholes”

Another booming laugh.

“Same thing, isn’t it? They get gobby?”

“Aye, but Mam and Dad said if I killed any of them, I’d have to bury them myself”

I was watching for the grin now, and it was doing things to my knees.

“Badger, I should have known any one of yours would have class! Anyway, got to do the usual politics stuff today. Catch you in the beer tent later for the band?”

Dad laughed.

“Some of us will still be working late, Carl, so we’ll see. You dancing, Debbie?”

“Don’t I always, Dad?”

The two of them shared a grin, and so I did as expected, and watched as he spent the evening with Rosie rather than me. Sod it. Sam was there, but the more I was with him, the more I was coming to realise the simplicity of his soul, and while I could be hard, I was never cruel. I danced with Sam, a few times with Rosie and Carl, but mostly by myself, swallowed by the music.

We spent a bit more time in West Wales that Summer, as it was shaping up to be a spectacular one. Before the weather broke in a spectacular series of thunderstorms and floods, we went through what was amazing for a Summer in my country. Our last event before heading east again was a Summer Rally with an MCC from near Swansea, and if I hadn’t already been in love with the lifestyle, that weekend would have snared me forever.

The site was next to a pub called the Cross Inn, just over the Black Mountain from Brynamman, and it was the first time I ever saw a red kite. While there was a pub by the rally site, it remained a ‘field’ event, with a marquee for the band and bar, and some of the finest views I have ever woken up to, almost as good as the ones I loved near the Roman Wall. The mountains to our South fell in red-striped walls, while softer agricultural lands swept away to the North. The mood was incredibly laid back, and Dad was smiling after a quick visit to the pub, which I assumed was related to beer.

He caught my grin.

“No, duck! Not started yet. Just wanted to get a feel of the landlord, as he’s a new face to me. I was also curious as to how he likes having competition for the booze sales”

“Oh! Hadn’t thought of that. What’s he say?”

“Always check your footing before you do anything, Debbie. Unsteady feet, unsteady work. No; he gets sparse trade out here, so this is the time he gets a shitload of boozers for a weekend, and the money is more than enough to go round. Lots of folk like a pint in a glass rather than one in a can”

We ambled back to the van, as his eyes took in the people and events around us.

“Nice do, this one. I’m going to see how it goes this evening, but we might just take a weekend off, here. Get a bit of R and R in. Gandalf’s due with his pair some time today, so you’ll have friends around you, but, to be honest, I get the feeling this is one of those really shit-free events. And the ground’s dried out firm enough for you to wear those boots you bought, the ones with the heels”

We’d got back to Mam by then, and she caught the last exchange.

“Yes, love, but I would suggest you do a little walking in them before you try dancing! Tea’s brewed, unless Happy Larry there’s already full of beer”

“Not a drop, Loz! Just seeing who we need to keep sweet. Let’s get the stock out, but leave the woolly hats and put out the bandannas for now”

Trade was slow till about seven o’clock, when we seemed to have a wave of arrivals, including several who needed one of Mam’s bright ideas: packs of tent pegs. She was ever one to spot an opportunity, and knowing how often people’ departures were made in a hurry, with more thought of ale and music than of camping necessities, she was spot on target. Rosie and her men arrived at about seven thirty, and training in behind them was a very tall young man on a Kawasaki 500 triple, which sounded utterly horrible to me and left a trail of blue smoke behind it. Dad was scathing.

“Bloody wasp-in-a-jam-jar stinkwheel…”

“DEBBIE!”

“Rosie! Hiya, Sam!”

“Debbie, this is my boyfriend, Nutty. Nutty, my best friend ever, Debbie. Hiya, Badger! Dad says is the kettle on? Oh, hiya Carl! You know Nutty?”

Where and when had he sneaked up?

“Hiya, Nutty. Did I hear the word ‘kettle’, Badger?”

Dad sighed.

“I hear and obey…”

Rosie was as hyper as ever.

“Dad says he’s going to get the tent up, but we’ve brought some disposable barbies, and LOADS of chops and sausages and stuff. You all eating with us tonight? Carl?”

“Why not? Got some work to do now, but There’s a shop down on the main road where I can pick some stuff up”

Mam was shaking her head.

“We’ve got loads, son, but if you are going anyway, can you pick up four or five pints of milk for us? I think we’ll need it, knowing this lot and tea”

That smile again.

“I hear and obey, Loz!”

In the end, he did better than that, finding some red and white wines as well, and my aim of parading my new heels fell by the wayside, into a camping chair rather than onto my arse, as we simply sat through the evening as a group of eight friends, enjoying the rock disco from the tent and relaxing in our own company, until about eleven o’clock, when Rosie disappeared with Nutty, and Carl took that as his signal to head for his own people.

He made the rounds, hugging Dad, kissing Mam’s cheek, then doing the same to me, with a whispered “See you tomorrow, girl”

I looked up at him, unsure of what I should do, and all I could find to say was “Promise?”

His beard tickled, but as he kissed me once more, his lips were soft on mine as his eyes caught just a hint of the glow from the marquee.

“Promise”