We made the list together. I wrote it out in my best handwriting, but then I ripped it up and told Pav to write it instead. He should practise. He needed the practice. It was time to be ruthless with him. A no-mercy approach was my new philosophy. No more Mr Nice Guy teacher.
The list wasn’t very extensive:
Mineral water, still and sparkling (my choice)
Orange juice (Pav’s)
Four chocolate bars (both)
Dried fruit and nut selection (my choice)
Bunch of flowers (Pav’s)
Plastic cups (both)
Paper plates (both)
Crisps (Pav’s)
Assorted finger snacks (my choice)
Both our mums and dads gave us money to buy the stuff. I think Pav’s sister gave him a cheeky backhander too. It’d be good having a big sis or bro to hand me money from time to time. Think Mum and Dad are too old for that nonsense now. Who knows? We’ll see.
We went to the shops in the morning to get the gear. It was the first time I’d ever shopped for my own stuff that wasn’t a book. When we walked past The New Bookshop I tried to drag Pav inside for a quick browse, but he was having none of it.
‘Don’t be crazy academic, Charlie. We have the ton work to do.’ Trying to get Pav inside the bookshop was a bit like asking the old Regime to vote for free elections. Things were about to get rougher for Pav though, you see; we had made a pact to drag his scrawny arse in there, and the school library, as much as possible. He would have no choice other than to learn the lingo properly.
When the shed was all set we sat in the chairs and tried to slow our heartbeats down. My backside was flapping. Pav’s was crawling in ants. We constantly hopped off the chairs to arrange or rearrange things. Fluff up the flowers. Anything other than sitting and waiting.
‘Oh, shitting hells,’ Pav said, ‘I forget something.’
‘What?’
‘I back in minute.’
‘Don’t leave me here alone, Pav,’ I said. ‘What if they come and you’re not …’
But it was too late; he was out of there like a blue-arsed fly. While Pav was off doing God knows what, I considered painting the shed the following summer. They sold cheap paint and brushes at the new DIY store. It could be a summer activity the four of us could partake in. Man, imagine having a television in here? What a dream that would be. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to rig up electricity.
I looked at the stuff we’d bought: the lovely flowers, the bright orange juice, the reds, maroons and yellows of the dried fruit and the allure of the chocolate. All these colours were the same as my outlook. My eyes floated to the once loose floorboard. I was glad that Pav had borrowed his dad’s hammer and nailed it down.
‘God, I thought you were never coming back, Pav,’ I said, which wasn’t true.
‘I forget this.’ From a bag Pav produced a Moleskine notebook and a pen. The pen with the four different colour choices. The Moleskine notebook and pen.
‘Is that the one given to you by The Big … ?’ I said.
‘Yes. I save it in room, but I give as a gift today,’ Pav said. He opened the Moleskine and removed – oh, not another blinking note – a pristine white handkerchief. Not one of your throwaways; this was the real deal. One hundred per cent cotton.
‘You forgot that as well?’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘I could’ve given you one, Pav.’
‘Not this one.’
‘Why? What’s so special about that one?’
‘It not mine. Look.’ He showed the hanky. The letters ML were positioned in one of the top corners.
‘ML, that’s …’ Then I remembered.
‘Mercy Lewis,’ Pav said. ‘She give me when dickhead numpties batter lights in of me. Today I return to Mercy with notebook and big thank you.’
‘Nice move, Pav. Nice move.’ I wished then that I had something to give to Erin F. All I had was myself. I really hoped that it would be good enough.
Pav took Mercy Lewis up to say hello to his mum and dad. All that was left over from the feast were a few crisps, sparkling water and some dried fruit. And me and Erin F. She dazzled.
In unity with her mum, Erin F had shaved her hair off. I didn’t want to go on about how much I missed her stunning locks. Hair comes. Hair goes. But her amazing gesture would remain in many people’s hearts forever. I couldn’t wait to run my hands through it when it did grow back though.
‘Sorry it’s taken ages for me to come see this place, Charlie,’ Erin F said.
‘Don’t worry, you’re here now.’
‘It’s cool.’
‘Really?’
There you go, Charlie. You’re now cool.
‘Yes, it would be a brilliant study area as well.’
‘Eh, hello. That’s what I keep telling Pav.’
‘Want some help clearing up?’ she said.
‘That’s OK, you just sit and relax, Erin F.’
‘Don’t talk crap, Charlie. I don’t buy into all that chivalry rubbish.’
We got on our feet at the same time, almost touching bodies. Erin F looked at me. I looked at her. I loved looking at her, not only because she was so utterly beautiful, but because she made me feel so utterly special. So utterly wanted. I’m sure nerves could be heard shattering all over my body.
What do I do now?
Who makes the move?
Am I supposed to?
I don’t know.
I, Charlie Law, haven’t a clue about such things.
Go on. Kiss her. She wants you to do it, daft arse.
I closed my eyes, drew nearer to her, put out my lips and let myself float away. And I floated and floated, and kept floating until it was as if we were a part of the same body.
You know, I’ve often wondered: would we all have been together if the bombs hadn’t come to Little Town? I mean: was it only the bombs that brought us together?
Who knows?
Who knows?