Nicky hesitated at the corner. Sach nudged him. The boys were sitting on their wall outside the shop – Purdy, Danny Donnelly, the boy with the chunk out his ear and Pete. Sach gave him a full shove and they crossed the road.
Jennifer Black and her pal had come over. She stood in front of the four boys, hands on hips and one foot out on a heel. It was freezing and she only had a blue shirt on. Sach and Nicky went passed. No one spoke. Safe in the doorway, he heard Purdy’s voice:
“Your wee nips are poking out like bullets.”
Jennifer Black told him to fuck off.
When they left the shop, the girls were on the wall too. Jennifer Black had her arms folded tight and they were all waiting for Pete to unwrap his pack of fags.
Purdy looked, grinned and went, “Awright Jesus boy.”
They walked on.
“Aw come back. Barry’s wanting his ear healed.”
“Fuck off you,” the boy with the bad ear said.
“Mind that time in Primary,” Purdy shouted, “when you took your favourite bible into school?”
Sach stopped. He turned and took a step. “Purdy, you weren’t even at his primary.”
Nicky tugged his jacket.
“Aye I know. The Skelf told me but.”
Sach took another step and pointed. “Purdy. Mind that time in our primary? You got caught playing with yourself under the desk?”
Purdy stood.
“Even the teacher thought your cock was tiny.”
“Come here.”
“So you can get me with your micro penis?”
Danny Donnelly grinned.
“Fuck off you,” Purdy said. “Wee fuckin’ Paki.”
Sach laughed.
On the way to the gate they didn’t speak. Nicky glanced over his shoulder. Nothing happened.
Back in the playground he said, “You shouldn’t noise him up.”
Sach opened his can. “Who cares? He won’t even be here next year, then what’ll he do? The man has no prospects. He was awright when we were wee – I had to sit next to him in primary. He drew dead good pictures. Once we were doing R.E and he drew this one of Jesus being crucified without any pants on, just this crooked willy like a finger. The teacher went mental. But now he’s just fuckin’ pathetic.”
He slotted his 50p in the piggy bank. Mack didn’t look up.
“Thought I’d come. Hope you don’t mind.”
Mack nodded and went back to filling in his sheet. “Ruth’s in. You probably knew.”
He found her playing table tennis with a bunch of wee girls. They were in a ring, hitting shots and running round the table. Ruth’s go hit the net. She put her face in her hands and told them she’d lost her last life. The wee girls tried to make her stay, but she tugged one of their ponytails and wandered over.
“Fan club,” he said.
“They keep giving me extra lives.”
He glanced round the hall.
“They’re not in,” she said.
“What?”
“The boys from last time. Mack told me. He banned them for a month. Come on.” She felt his sleeve and he followed her to the church kitchen. She opened a cupboard and took out two chipped mugs and a drum of chocolate powder, spooned it out and filled the mugs under the big metal urn.
“So where’ve you been all my life?” she said, stirring.
“Nowhere. What about you?”
“It’s nice to see you.”
“Yeah.”
“Not seen you since the cinema. Properly.” She eyed the liquid. Dark strands of hair fell from behind her ears. “The film wasn’t that bad was it?”
She smiled and he smiled back.
“It was terrible,” he said.
She lifted herself and sat on the worktop, leaning against the closed hatch. Tea and coffee was served from there after services. A rota of women’s names was stuck on the wall then a faded poster. “THE LORD PROVIDES” it said, big block letters hanging in a cloudy sky over a field of corn.
Ruth slurped from the mug. “No other news then?”
He shook his head.
“Sure you’re not keeping secrets?”
“How?”
She slid back to her feet. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Right you dirty skivers,” Mack walked in, a plastic hockeystick over one shoulder. “Ruthy please go and spare us from those wee girls. They’re arguing over you. Trying to guess what colour your eyes are.”
She closed her eyes. “What colour are they?”
He swung the hockey stick and tapped her stomach and she groaned and doubled over.
“See you afterwards,” she said.
When she was gone, Mack rested the hockey stick by the fridge. “It’s good to see you, bud. Glad you made it back.”
“Ruth says you banned the boys.”
“They haven’t shown up, but yeah. If they do.”
Mack went to say more then stopped and opened the fridge, took a carton of milk out and sniffed it. He put it on the counter, brought down a mug and dropped in a tea bag. He filled it from the urn and sat it by the milk.
“Is the car okay?”
“She’ll live.”
Mack lifted Ruth’s spoon, sucked it clean and fished the teabag out, pressing it against the side and dumping it in the sink. He found sugar and added two heaps. Once he’d spun the lid back on he pushed the milk away and put both hands on the counter and spoke towards the hatch.
“I’ve gotta say, Nicky. We were disappointed, all the leaders. You left us in the lurch.”
Nicky put the mug to his lips.
“And then finding you in the street like that,” Mack turned, “drunk.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Let’s not piss around here.” He pointed the spoon. “You had a responsibility.”
Nicky nodded.
“I know we’re friends, bud, but I’m responsible too – for keeping you on the narrow path. It’s what they pay me to do.”
“I’m sorry.” He slid his mug on the counter, glanced at the door and went to speak.
“Not yet.” Mack waved him back with the spoon. “We’re not done.”
“What?”
“Tell me about your band.”
Nicky waited.
“Got nothing to say?”
“What about it?”
“I’ve known for weeks. Your friend’s dad told me. He was psyched about you joining, thinking you might rub off on his boy.”
“Sid?”
“There’s been a change in you since. Ruth thinks too.”
Nicky kept his mouth shut.
“That boy – You know his mum and dad met here?”
“Sadly so. And you remember old Mr Clayton at the home?”
Nicky nodded.
“That’s how his mum came here. Mr Clayton’s your pal’s grandpa.”
Nicky frowned. He reached for the mug again and stopped.
Mack went on, “I didn’t expect him to be that way when we visited. He’s not like he was. Worse now. Your friend’s not said anything about it?”
He shook his head.
Mack pushed the hair off his forehead. “I just want you to be careful. A band called – whatever it’s called. It’s not even the name that matters.”
“Are you telling me to quit it?”
“Bud, telling you what to do – that is definitely not my job. I think you need to ask yourself – why’s it been a big secret?”
“It’s not a secret.”
“Really? Cos I don’t remember you telling me about it. Or telling Ruth.”
“We’ve got a gig. Tomorrow.”
“I know.”
Nicky shrugged. “Come if you want.”
“You’ve had so many opportunities. It’s taken this for you to tell me. So maybe, deep down,” Mack put a hand across his chest and sighed.
“I know.”
“But if I can’t talk to you then my job’s pretty pointless.” He looked at his watch. “I need to go, check up on these young reprobates. Pals?”
“What?”
“Pals.”
Mack put his fist out, waiting for Nicky to bump it with his own.