CHAPTER 44
The weather was once more closing in, along with the calendar. I was getting old, I realised, and everything was telescoping. Time was shortening, each month flying past, but the House was buzzing with life, each of my girls opening up at their own rate, but opening, nevertheless. They formed a little phalanx each morning as they headed off to the school Heidi had found for them, and while I was still working my full range of duties for Bert, I was spending very little time at Ruth’s. It had always been my go-to for a decent breakfast, but with so many teenagers to be fed each morning, it would have been awkward. Fester would have lost his mind, though, over what they chose to eat.

I am, of course, a traditionalist in such things, and a Full Breakfast of Whichever Country had always been my choice. I have mentioned the truckers’ grapevine of decent caffs and greasy spoons, especially those that offer tea (or hot chocolate) in pint mugs, and of course I had a biker’s grounding in bacon, eggs and fried bread, or whatever somewhere like Hollies would pile onto their plates, but some of my girls had a rather different take.

Cereal, of odd types. Yoghurt, in a variety of flavours. Fruit. I could follow, or swallow, lots of those, but what on Earth was the purpose of a bagel?

Needless to say, we were out with the van on many occasions, especially on those nights when the rain was less a shower of drops and more a penetrating and chunky mist, soaking everything without mercy. I watched Kylie on those nights, as she had slept through several of them with shelter not much more than an evergreen bush and a couple of bin bags. She did her best to be chatty and bright for the working girls, but it didn’t work all that often. There seemed to be a regular influx of new faces, and more than a few showed clear resentment of us, as rich hobbyists or some such shit.

I heard Moira slap a couple of them down, her tongue savagely stripping the skin from their surliness, and the attitude would be more pleasant for a short while, but each new worker seemed to take a while to accept our reasons for being out on such awful nights.

They never turned down our hot drinks, though, just as we never lost our own understanding of why we were there. Obs, in essence, obs for humanity as a whole, rather than those owed to individual people. Always, always, those words of Ian Anderson, and ‘the giving’ certainly made my girls what they were, which was more confident in their future, more assured in their sense of personal worth.

Once again, we were counting down to Christmas. Where did the sodding time go? I was just calculating how we could run everybody up to Marlene’s, and the clubhouse, while checking which shifts I would end up lumbered with and trying to design a fall-back plan if some of the girls decided those events were not for them, when my mobile rang.

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Hiya, Debbie! How’s you?”

“Graham! Hiya, love!”

“Just ringing to check on Christmas, and then run something past you”

“Go on. Nothing nasty? Malcolm okay?”

“He’s fine, pet. Part of what I’m asking about, really”

“Well, you had me worried a little, just then. I was actually trying to sort out planning for Christmas when you rang. Had a bit of a population explosion since last year”

“How many with you now?”

“Oh, hell. Um… Cathy and Nell should be back, then Kim, Kylie, Chloe, Emma, Rachel, Serena, Maisie, Patricia, Alicia… I’ve probably forgotten a name there. Need to start writing them down”

He chuckled.

“What, call the register every morning? ‘Here, Miss’, that sort of thing?”

“Starting to make sense, love. You two coming down as usual?”

“We are, but, well. Sort of thing I wanted to run past you. I’m looking at taking on a tenant”

“Not a big deal, really, so what’s the worry?”

“A tenant for my farm, Debbie”

“You retiring? Moving away?”

So many memories of that beach, the whisper of the sand grains and the soft rustle of the marram stems as the wind pushed everything before it.

“Not actually retiring, Debbie. More sort of changing horses. Just wanted an opinion, tell us if we’re being a daft old pair of puffs”

“Speak, then. What are you not saying?”

“Malcolm and me, we have an option on a place. Same sort of place Marlene runs. Gay bar”

“In bloody Northumberland? Didn’t think you’d have that many customers up that way!”

He paused for a few seconds, then drew his breath in audibly.

“No, pet. Tenerife. Canary Islands. Huge scene out there, and the weather’s more reliable. There’s a bar in Las Americas we’ve been to a lot, and the owner’s selling up. Malcolm’s sold his place, and he got a lump sum when he retired. Got a tenant lined up for the farm”

He paused again, then said, so softly that I almost missed it, “Sorry”

“What the hell for?”

“Just feels like I’m abandoning you, Debbie, after… After Ken and Lorraine went, I just… Feels wrong. That’s all”

“What’s wrong is what you’re saying, love. You always looked after us. Never, ever let us down. Some of the best times of my life were there, with you, the beach, stotty, all the rest. You have a life to live, and mine is sorted, aye? Got Rosie down here, got girls to look after. I’m fine. I will be fine, okay? Now, this Christmas I have to cover Boxing Dat. You two up for looking after the girls for a day or two, while I’m at work?”

“Always, Debbie. When we move, like, it’s a guest house and a bar. You come over and see us?”

“When I can, my love. You can’t escape me that easily”

“I hope not. See you for Christmas”

A click, and he was gone, and I suspect his abruptness was driven by tears. Another little piece of my old life, chipped away with the rest. I realised that our little one-two at Christmas and New Year was becoming a lifeline for me, an anchor for my year. Without the girls, what would I have, beyond work?

I called into the living room, where Alicia was reading while Rachel and Emma worked through some homework, the rest in the other house, or in their rooms, I assumed.

“Girls? I am just going out for a while. Got my keys, and you know the drill with the door. Any worries, ring me, or Kim. She’s at Ruth’s place”

I grabbed my lid, gloves and leather, tucked my binoculars into a rucksack and kicked the bike over. I suppose I was intending to head for the Bay, catch the last of the sunset and see what I could spot, but the bike had its own mind, and I ended up heading out to the motorway. Once there, I let the beast have its head, no idea where I was going but needing something, anything, to burn off the pain.

What the fuck did I have, in the end, to show for my life?

I have no idea how I avoided being pulled over, the speeds I hit, and the anger and hurt only eased near Cornelly, where I peeled off the M4 and headed north for Pyle.

I saw the car coming from a long way off, and I have absolutely no idea how I survived. The stupid bitch of a driver was looking left, checking out her exit road, and came out onto the roundabout without any sign of braking. I managed to twist the bike behind her car, and my right boot’s toe caught it a glancing blow. I managed to bring what threatened to be a real tank slapper under control, just, and found myself stopped at the verge, hyperventilating in my shock and relief. Shit, that had been close, and Mrs Bitch just continued on her way, clearly oblivious to the whole thing. I paddled the bike further onto the verge and sat shaking for a few minutes, images of a whole brood of abandoned girls scrolling over my eyes.

Shit, indeed. I settled myself, and wiped my streaming eyes before setting off back down the spur road to the M4, where I made much, much more sedate progress back towards the city. Get home, settle down, early night.

After a shower to dispose of the fear sweat that soaked the small of my back.

The bike, however, seemed to have its own ideas, and when I came back off the motorway, I ended up in Grangetown, rolling along to a particular bakery.

Which turned out to be a charity shop. There was a convenience store still open just up the road, so I stuck my head in. A little man in salwar kameez was behind the counter.

“What can I get you, love?”

“Um, sorry. I was after some information”

“It wasn’t me, and that sheep wasn’t underage”

“Eh?”

“Sorry, love. Missus says my sense of humour’s not fit for polite company. Well, actually she says I’m a sicko, but hey, nobody’s perfect”

I found myself warming to him, and had a little moment of insight, comparing my own day job to his. We all found our own ways to combat boredom.

“Well, not after sheep, so no worries. I was wondering about the shop up the road. Used to be a bakery”

“What, Frank’s old place? Gossip about that, there is. How well do you know Frank?”

I decided to stretch the truth more than a little, while not actually lying.

“I used to work with him, when he was at Tesco”

“Ah. You heard about his wife, then?”

“I heard he got married. Haven’t seen him for a while”

“Ah. You won’t know, then. Don’t quite know how to put this”

“Try me”

“Well, they went off on a holiday to Gambia. He sold up when they got back, cause he came back on his own”

“His wife stayed out there?”

“Er, no. She came back on the same flight, with the lad who cleaned the hotel pool”

“Oh shit!”

“Absolutely. Anyway, she’s off to Penarth now, with her pool boy. Cow, in my opinion. Really did her man over, big style. I liked Frank. Not a bad bone in him, and he did nice savouries. Used to get Halal lamb in, just for me, or at least that’s what he told me. Got a new place now, he has, down by Cathays”

He gave me a much sharper look, then smiled.

“I’ll give you his new address, love. You could do an awful lot worse”

I left the shop confused, but my bike knew better, and I ended up back on the other side of the Taff, sitting on the beast as it ticked away, staring at a window display of bread rolls and wheat ears sculpted from dough, baked to a golden brown. The shop was closed, but I could see him in my mind’s eye, behind the counter, his smile, his gentleness…

I started up and rode away, visor up to allow the wind to dry my tears.

One more piece of my life ripped away.

I was as quiet as I could be, getting back through the locked door at home, putting my lid and gloves away and hanging up my leather, but Kim was home by then, and she took one look at my face before pushing me back into the kitchen and shutting the inner door behind us.

“Wash your face before you go in there, woman. The girls don’t need to see you like this”

“You’re one of them, Kim. You can see me”

“You know bloody well how I think, Debbie. And I know you. Some of them don’t, at least not yet, so you need to stay strong, or at least look like it. Wash. I’ll sort the kettle. Tea or choccie?”

“Choccie. Please. And thanks, love”

“No need, and you bloody well know it. What the fuck is up?”

I thought for a few seconds, then shook my head.

“Not saying I won’t tell you, love; more that I can’t, really. Things got a bit too much tonight, so I went out for a ride, and, well, memories. Had a call from Graham”

She straightened up with a jerk.

“What’s happened? He had an accident?”

“Ah, no. Him and Malcolm, well, they’re emigrating. Renting out his farm, and ploughing some money they have into a place on Tenerife. What’s funny?”

“Ploughing. He has animals, not crops. Doesn’t do ploughing, not like that!”

All of a sudden, I was laughing, but that quickly turned to tears, and it was my turn to be held and healed as the younger woman—I could no longer see her as a child--- as the younger woman held me until I could speak again. I ended up leaning on her, sipping my chocolate as she cuddled me.

“I read that book, Debbie. The Elliott one”

Ouch.

“And?”

“And you don’t need to tell me, but was that you? I don’t mean were you him, just was it the same? Same as Stevie Elliott had?”

I nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see my face, but she felt the movement.

“Different place for you, though”

“Yeah. But two of the same people”

Oh.

A long pause.

“Which two”

“Don and Charlie”

“School uniform cunt?”

“I think so, yes. Long time since I read that book”

“No wonder you are so bloody screwed up, my love. Jesus. How do you manage to keep going?”

“Have to, don’t I?”

Her hug tightened.

“Not alone, Debbie. Never alone. Come on; drink up, face wash and then go for a shower or something, get the redness from your eyes and that before we talk to the others”

She packed me off upstairs, and I stood in the steam for nearly half an hour before I felt I could face them all again. Pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown on, a slight chill on the landing as I exited the sauna atmosphere of the bathroom. I made my way slowly down the stairs, trying to work out excuses for my time in the shower, but they weren’t needed.

Everyone was gathered in the main living room, eyes locked on Alicia, who was shaking. My troubles evaporated, and I hurried over to her, my arms open and ready.

“What’s up, love?”

Kim held up the mobile Nita and Heidi had given us.

“Got a text, Debbie. From Heidi. It’s Alicia’s dad”

I realised how Kim must have felt, as I turned to look at the shaking girl.

“What’s up with him?”

Kim, once more, took the lead.

“Heidi says he wants to meet up with his child. His word. Child. Not daughter”

Alicia’s voice was faint, but clear.

“Not son. He didn’t call me his son”