He’d made the football pitch himself out of the top of a cardboard box. He had painted it green and marked out the lines with black marker pen and the goalposts were cut out of wood from the shed. The nets had been a problem until he’d found two of the little white bags for putting washing tablets in and attached them carefully with thread. It was good. He was pleased with it. Now he was going to think about how he could construct the stands.
‘David! It’s twenty to.’
David Angus stood looking down at the box for as long as he dared, trying to visualise it, trying to work it out. He half closed his eyes.
‘And it’s Giggs, Giggs has it, Giggs has passed it across …’
The crowd was roaring.
‘David!’
He sighed and picked up his school bag. He’d come back to it tonight.
‘You’ve got ham and cucumber in your sandwiches, don’t forget to eat those and the banana before you eat the cake.’
‘Did you cut the fat off?’
‘I cut the fat off. Do you need money for anything today?’
He thought. Tuesday?
‘No, but I need to take the note back about the history outing.’
‘On the table in front of you.’
His mother was pulling on her jacket. His sister Lucy had already gone, met by two friends to walk together down to the school bus at the corner of Dunferry Road. She now went to Abbey Grange. David was still at St Francis.
‘I’m in court all day but I’ll be out in time to pick you up. We need to get you some shoes.’
‘Can we go for a milk shake at Tilly’s after?’
‘Afterwards. We’ll see.’
Why did they always say we’ll see first, even when they knew whether it was yes or no? We’ll see, we’ll see … they couldn’t seem to help saying it.
‘Come on, Doodlebug.’
David picked up his bag.
It wasn’t raining, that was all he noticed. Not raining, not freezing cold. Otherwise morning was morning. His mother got into the car and held open the door. David went forward and bent in. He didn’t mind kissing her here at home, especially when she was actually inside the car. He wouldn’t have done it outside school.
‘Have a good day, Doodlebug. See you tonight.’
‘See you.’
He waited until she’d edged out of the drive into the road and driven off, then wandered to the gate. His father had gone an hour before. He was always in the hospital by half past seven. David put his bag on the ground and waited, watching for the car. It was the Forbeses’ week. The Forbeses had a dark blue Citroën Zsara. It wasn’t the best lift, that was when it was the di Roncos’ week and the people carrier with blacked-out windows slowed up beside him. Di Ronco’s father had been in one of the most famous bands of the eighties and had big rings on every finger and tattooed-in sideburns. Di Ronco’s father made them laugh all the way to school and swore four-letter words.
Cars sped past him down the road. Work. School. Work. School. Work. School. Silver Mondeo. White Audi. Black Ford Focus. Silver Ford Focus. Silver Rover 75. Red Polo. Sick-green Hyundai. Blue Espace. Maroon Ford Ka.
There were more silver cars than any other colour, he’d proved it.
Black Toyota Celica. Silver BMW.
The Forbeses weren’t usually late. Not like the di Roncos. They always were, once by half an hour and di Ronco’s dad had just breezed into the school whistling and shouting, ‘Don’t start without us!’
He tried to picture Mr Forbes doing that and nearly fell over laughing.
He was still laughing a bit when the car drew up beside him, laughing too much to take in that the colour was wrong and that someone had opened the door and was pushing him roughly inside as the wheels spun hard away from the kerb.