CHAPTER 44
We shared the big bed again, Mam, Dad and me, as I felt I needed the comfort it always brought, and in the morning, after a solid breakfast, I headed off to the beach with my music player, some spare batteries, a carrier bag of cassettes and a book of crosswords. Once in the dunes, I laid out my reed mat amid the marram and pulled off my shift dress.

“Nice bikini, love”

The voice was right behind me, and I jerked in automatic shock just as my conscious mind told me it was Mam. I turned to apologise for the “Shit!” that had erupted from me. She was in her own costume, a towel over her shoulders, a grin on her face.

“Take those headphones off and you’ll know what’s going on behind you, love. Dad’s off playing with engines, so I thought we could have a bit of a relax together, just us. Missed you, girl…”

A hug was as automatic as my jerk had been, but far more pleasant. We stretched out on our backs, side by side, as the wind shivered the grass and I stared up into the vast and cloudless skies.

“What have all those doctors been saying, love?”

“Which ones? Seen a few, now”

“Start with that shrink, then. In Wolverhampton, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Funny bloke. Not ha-ha funny, right?”

“In what way funny?”

“Oh, when he started, I thought he was a right heartless twat. Laid right into me, he did. Felt like smacking him”

“Too much time spent with lorry drivers, girl! What changed your mind?”

“Like I said, when he started talking about… About other stuff”

“Carl and Rosie, you mean?”

I looked across at her, my vision a little out of focus after staring into the sky, but once I could see her properly again, all I could detect in her expression was concern. I reached across to take her hand, looking up into the brightness once more.

“Not so much that, Mam, but that was part of it. It was more when I mentioned that place in Carlisle. He’d said about me being in hiding, and I said yeah, and what would have happened if I’d not done that, where would I have ended up. He was actually wincing”

I thought a little while before speaking again, still clinging to her hand.

“He was right about one thing, or at least I hope he was”

“And?”

“He said something about a viewpoint, viewpoints in general, not some tourist site. Said we needed to find me a different place to look at things from, that stuff looked different depending on where you were seeing them from”

“He’s not wrong there, love. Tell me: what would you do if you met one of them from Mersey View again?”

I think I nearly broke her hand.

“Fucking kill them, that’s what!”

As my grip slackened, she squeezed back.

“Exactly. You’re looking at them from outside, now, from freedom. Makes a hell of a difference. We just need to get the rest of your shit looked at differently”

“Not going to be easy, is it?”

“No, love. But that’s the thing about hard jobs: they look impossible right up to when you start them, and then you realise they’re not”

She paused, before adding, with a chuckle,

“Just bloody hard and take a long time to get sorted. Now, I’ve brought out some sun cream. Want me to do your back?”

So much love in one person, I thought, and then the tears started, as I realised it wasn’t just her, but Dad, and poor Sam, Graham, Rosie… Even Carl. What, after all, had he done except treat me with respect and affection? I was lucky, in truth, far luckier than that Bowles kid, despite what he had done. Luckier than poor Benny, who I had left behind in his cell, and certainly far, far luckier than any of the boys found buried under lawns and patios in Carlisle.

Mam didn’t say a word about my crying I lay face down and wept, just rubbed the cream into my skin while prattling on with gossip about Nigel, and that chip shop, and the weather as they passed Beattock (not raining, just the once), and some of the bike rallies planned for the next few months. Filler; not actually meaningless, and not skirting my distress but setting it into perspective. There was a world outside my head, and it carried on turning irrespective of my circumstances. I had no intention of stepping off it, so I needed to start swimming with the current once more. Post traumatic stress disorder, the shrink had said, and that first word was the key: ‘post’ meant ‘past’, and so it was. The Parsons were long gone, and I had watered their grave myself, just as someone had adjusted their gravestones in an equally appropriate manner. Even that bastard of a copper was dead, along with Don, and if things went right, Cooper would never walk free again, so what did I have to fear?

I just mumbled, “Thanks, Mam” and let myself doze off, stripped of energy by my crying fit and safe in the arms of people who loved me.

It had always been a wrench leaving the farm, and it was no different this time, both Graham and his man giving us bone-cracking hugs of farewell and standing at the gate to wave until we were out of sight. I was in my usual place in the middle of the van’s front seats, with Mam driving, so I turned to Dad.

“Didn’t see much of Malcolm after the first day, Dad. Did he think I’d be a shit about them being puffs?”

I heard Mam snort as Dad gently corrected my language before answering me.

“Not at all, duck. He knows we don’t give a toss, so why would our kid? It was tact, duck, Tact. He’s got an idea of what you’ve been through, so he didn’t want to play all lovey-dovey and rub your nose in it. Shush!”

I had started to speak, until he laid a finger on my lips.

“No, duck. Let me say a few things, OK? I don’t spend all the time there fettling engines and farm machinery. Graham’s a bloke, and he doesn’t usually get many others to have a natter with”

He grinned, and after a snort of his own, he continued.

“Yeah, me too! Locked up all day with two bloody women, that’s my life! Anyway, so we natter a lot, and he’s always liked you, so I give him bits of news. What was it the shrink said about you? Broken heart, aye? Well, he sees that, so he doesn’t rub it in that he’s got somebody now. It’s because he cares about you, duck”

I opened my mouth, and yet again was shushed.

“No, duck. Just because it’s another bloke doesn’t mean it’s all about shagging. They’re just like me and your Mam, comfortable with each other being nearby”

“OY!”

“Yes, Loz?”

“You saying I’m not getting any nooky this weekend? I can always turn round and drop you two back off at the farm, you know. Bound to be plenty of eligible young men at the rally!”

Dad sighed theatrically.

“Typical bloody woman. Sex mad. Deb, there you see what I mean about wanting to have a proper chat, bloke to bloke, none of this sexual harassment stuff women hit me with all the time”

Mam was trying too hard to be serious, and when she tried to get out a comment about that all being in his dreams, she lost it and started laughing so hard she had to pull onto the verge and stop, whereupon I was treated to the two of them each leaning across me to demonstrate a very clear token of affection. They broke the kiss, each then hugging me, and after a careful check to make sure the trailer hadn’t bounced too badly when running off road, we were back on our way.

Turning onto the rally site was another part of coming home, as greetings were exchanged, our pitch was indicated, and we started the business of setting up stand and tents. My smaller one went up with a wink from Dad, and I was certain that the ‘nooky’ promise would be kept, so I didn’t feel excluded. Sunglasses and bandannas were our first and steadiest sales that sunny afternoon and evening, but Dad had set out several boxes of that other perennial, the fingerless leather mitt. Mam surprised me by producing a couple of boxes of children’s T-shirts, all with slogans like ‘My Mum’s/Dad’s a biker’. My favourite version read ‘Bikers don’t do Naughty Step’, and she spotted my smile.

“Always look for new markets, love. Plenty of kids at these dos. Got one place looking at supplying me with mini denim cut-offs. Not really cut-offs, but you know what I mean, don’t you? See how the shirts do, and then expand”

Impeccable business logic from her, as always. Trade built up steadily through the afternoon, the three of us working hard as the moneybox filled nicely, and we each took a few minutes to feed, separately, on burgers and chips from the food tent. Dad was the last eat, sitting a little way back to spare the merchandise from grease, and as the sun went down, he sighed happily.

“I do like the Fridays, duck! Get them while they still have money to spend, before it’s all drunk down or thrown up. Mind if we stay open till late, girls? Get some cash in the box while we can?”

I couldn’t argue with that one, Mam making a rude comment about him not wasting his energy dancing because she had plans for his body later, so when it got to about nine o’clock, and the tide of customers was still in flood, I packed both of them off while I ran the business. I didn’t hear much over the sound of the metal coming from the disco, but some ninety minutes later, we closed up and wandered across to the marquee for a drink and simple relaxation, sitting on a couple of straw bales ranged along the side walls of the tent.

Saturday saw another fine and sunny morning, trade picking up steadily as people threw off their hangovers with solid breakfasts and, in our case, several gallons of tea, our hats on against the weight of the sun’s increasing heat. T-shirts were selling rapidly, especially the bike-branded ones, but the children’s kit seemed almost to evaporate. I caught Mam looking across at Dad to chalk an imaginary score for her with her forefinger, and I realised that the whole line of goods had been her idea rather than his.

We girls, as ever, left Dad to run the stall for another hour or so, or at least until he got thirsty, and changed into our partying kit, in both cases of short skirts and heeled boots. I found myself wondering whose taste it reflected, and which of us was copying the other, but in the end, I didn’t give a toss. We looked good, I felt good, and Mam looked as if she did, and so we strutted off over the firm (thankfully) ground to the tent in time for the band’s opening riffs.

I was out in the middle of the crowd, my hair flying as I got into the heat and the beat, until the first song ended and I looked round for Mam, who was standing by the straw bales, looking confused. I fought my back to her, having to shout in her ear to be heard.

“What’s up?”

She shook her head, eyes screwed up in confusion, before putting her mouth next to my ear.

“I can’t feel the bloody music, love!”