Chapter 33

Chapter 33

My house was empty when Rob and I got there. Keith was out selling his hoovers, but now Mum had also found a sales job as a rep for a company called SuperWare, which flogged plastic food storage tubs and the like. I was glad for the quiet. I wasn't ready for questions, and Rob and I had a plan to sort out. I hadn't seen Beth or Dan, so I assumed they'd got away with it, and would have the good sense to keep quiet to save their own skins. I'd call Beth at home later and fill her in. What else could I do? There was no way to contact her until she got home. I really wished we all had mobile phones, like Keith had. That would have really helped.

I made Rob and I a cup of tea* and we sat in the lounge. If he was disappointed in my little house, compared to his, he didn't show it. If anything, he looked right at home, kicking off his trainers and sinking back into the sofa, while I fretted over the contents of the letter Prenton had sent home with us both to pass on, along with a promise of a phone call, meaning hiding the letter was not going to solve anything.

"Promoting a book not permissible within the Christian teachings this school endeavours to uphold, and in contravention of section 28 of the Local Government Act," I read out loud.

"That first bit could mean it was a book about eating shellfish, though, couldn't it? Or wearing man-made fibres. The Sins of Polyester. It's true – no child should be subjected."

"Rob, this isn't funny. My mum's gonna read it. She's going to ask me why I was looking at the book. What I was doing. I'm going to have to come out to her. And Keith. It's my birthday in a few days and this is how I'm starting my seventeenth year? Suspended and outed!" I sighed. "And what's your dad going to say?"

I realized then, as I watched him deflate, that all of his jokes and relaxed attitude had just been bravado. Forced jollity, or just complete denial, it didn't matter – I'd just brought him back to reality with a bang.

"He's in London for the week," he said quietly. "Prenton will call the house first, and I'm not planning on answering, so she'll leave a message on the answerphone."

"And then?"

Rob swallowed. "At some point, maybe she'll try his office, which means she'll speak to his secretary, who hates me—"

"Rob—"

He turned to me. The sadness in his face broke my heart. "We're probably safe today. But it may be tomorrow. Or the next day. So what choice do we have? Sit here and worry? We don't know how long we've got, but I do know we should live each day to the fullest. Go out with a bang. You know how prisoners on death row get their special request for a final meal?"

"That's the analogy you're going with?!"

"Oh, come on! Worst case, we run away from home. I've been thinking about it. I'd do that before Daddy ships me off to be cured by the anti-gay evangelical cult he's lined up. Fuck it, let's party. You and me, and fuck the rest of the world."

"But, my mum—"

"Don't give your mum the letter. Leave the house like you're going to school each day, and come round to mine instead. She'll never know you're suspended."

"And when Prenton phones?"

Rob blew out a breath. "Well, you try to intercept it. But yeah, eventually the shit will hit the fan, won't it? That's life, mate. At some point, the shit hits the fan. For all of us. But until then, we should live. I've finally got some wheels…" He smiled at me. "And we have each other, and here we are, facing the end of the world, and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather do that with." He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. "Jay?"

"What?"

"When's your mum due back?"

"She said she'd be out all day. She's at a training course, learning how to sell egg cups and picnic ware."

Rob nodded. "I think we should go out. Have some fun. But first, I don't suppose you fancy doing anything not permissible within Christian teachings, do you?"

That cheeky smile played on his lips, eyes ablaze with mischief and horniness.

Like I could resist those deep brown eyes anyway. Who was I kidding, thinking I'd do anything than follow him wherever he wanted to take me? We were going to live.

And we certainly did.

OK, we had limited resources – Rob got a generous allowance from his dad (guilt money because he was so rarely at home), but it wasn't enough to fly to New York, or go in a hot-air balloon or anything, and I had almost nothing in my bank account. But that was just fine.

"Living isn't about the big stuff," Rob told me, as we sped along the country lanes in his black Fiesta with red bits, "it's what happens in between the big stuff."

"Poetic," I said, hoping he didn't notice me gripping the seat, not because I was embarrassed about not trusting him as a newly qualified driver, but because he really needed to keep his eyes on the road.

"Not me," Rob replied. "Read it somewhere. A magazine, I think." He glanced at me. "Put some music on. There are some cassettes in the glove compartment."

I leaned forward. "Um, OK…"

"Are you all right? You seem nervous."

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just … could you slow down a bit?"

"We're nowhere near the speed limit."

"Rob, it's a safety regulation, not a challenge."

He laughed and took his foot off the accelerator. "Better?"

"Thanks. I just don't want to die."

He smiled to himself. "We're not gonna die."

We drove along in silence for a bit, and since he'd adopted a more sensible speed now, I felt able to riffle through his tape collection, and eventually put on some REM – Automatic for the People.

"Tell me who you talk to, then," he said.

"Huh?"

"At Mum's grave – you said there's someone you talk to."

"Ohh."

After quite a bit of silence he chuckled and said, "Well, who is it, then?!"

"It's … pretty ridiculous."

"Yeah, well, we're talking about speaking to people who aren't really there, right?"

I swallowed. "Sometimes it feels like she is there, though."

Rob nodded, taking a corner with a reassuring amount of precision. "I get that."

"It's like I can actually see her."

"So, what, like your grandma or something, is it?"

"It's Electra."

"I'm sorry, it's who?"

"Electra. From ITV's Wave Warriors."

We drove in more silence for a bit, probably while he weighed up how much of basket case I was.

"Electra specifically, or Tina Rocks, who plays Electra?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Well, is she constantly chasing you the wrong way up a water slide, or is she offering you advice?"

"The latter?"

Rob sniffed, like all this was normal. "Sounds more like Tina Rocks – she's got a degree in psychology, I read." He nodded approvingly. "I'm not going to comment on how it all works, this talking business, but I've always thought she seems really nice, amazing hair, even when it's soaking wet, and – not that I'm an expert – great athlete." He glanced at me. "You're properly bonkers, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Probably."

"Wouldn't want you any other way!" He smiled. "Hope she's not here now!"

I twisted round, and there she was, sitting in the back seat.

"Let him talk more about how great an athlete I am," she said.

I glared at her and she put her hands up in submission. "OK, OK. Don't want me here, huh? I know when I'm not welcome. Well, that's fine. You boys behave yourselves. And have fun."

I nodded and she vanished.

"Jay?"

"Yep, no, all good. No Electra!" I said, too loudly.

We parked on the central promenade in Cleethorpes, grabbed a bag of chips each, and walked up Kings Road to Pleasure Island Theme Park.

"I'm not going on the Boomerang," I told him.

Pleasure Island had opened the year before, and while this was my first visit, I'd already heard about the rides. The Boomerang was the big roller coaster, so called because you were taken forward and back through a vertical loop and a cobra roll. No thanks.

"Don't worry, we won't go on the Boomerang," Rob assured me.

"Promise?"

"I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, Jamie."

So that was fine. We went on a few of the more sedate family rides (the flying chairs, dodgems, astra slide and the furry friends tractor ride – yes, yes, I know), had a go on a pedalo around the huge lake (loved that, as I imagined him reading romantic poetry to me as I let my hand drift through the water), saw the bird show and the sea lion show, and it was all great, but then I caught him looking mournfully at the Boomerang. And not for the first time either. It was like … he kept glancing at it when he thought I wasn't looking.

"Look," I said. "You can go on it if you like. I'm happy to stand here and watch."

"Nah," he said.

"I don't mind."

"Shame you don't like roller coasters, though."

I shrugged. "I mean, I've never been on one—"

"You've never been on one?"

We locked eyes. "I don't enjoy speed. You know that from the car earlier."

"I wasn't speeding."

"No, but, I'm just saying, it makes me nervous."

"You know what they say: live fast!"

"And the rest of that phrase is die young."

"I prefer living fast and dying young to living slow and dying old," he said. He clocked my frown. "OK, that didn't come out quite right. I just think you can cram a lot in, do a lot of living; it's not about years, it's about what you do with them." He nodded. "I'm going to go on it, then."

"OK. I'll watch."

"Unless you want to come too?"

"I don't."

"Because this is all about stuff we haven't done before, and you haven't done this."

I looked down at the ground and scuffed my trainers about in the dirt. "That's cool." After some silence, I glanced back up at him. He was smiling at me. "What if … you come with me, and because you're scared, I'll hold your hand? Would that help?"

"People might see."

"Not if we sit in the back row of the very back carriage."

"Even so."

He stepped towards me. "I'll look after you, Jamie. Nothing bad will happen, promise."

I took an unsteady breath. He was pushing all my buttons. I could feel myself weakening.

"I guess I just wanted us to experience it together, that's all. But if you really don't want to, then … we won't."

"What if it crashes?" I blurted out, unable to think with any sort of logic.

"Then we'll die. Side by side. Which is probably gonna happen in a few days anyway, so why not now?" He grinned.

"Can we stop talking about dying, please? Look, shut up, seriously, you go."

He held his hand out.

"No," I said, glancing around, in case anyone saw.

He nodded. "OK, fair enough. Meet you back here then?"

"Yeah. Good luck."

"See you then."

He ambled off towards the ride entrance.

And, of course, because being parted from him was so painful, ten seconds later I ran to catch him up.

"OK!" I said.

He turned and smiled. "OK?!"

"No, I think this is a mistake."

"No," he replied. "I think this is love."

"Which is also a mistake."

"You don't mean that, you're an optimist."

"Well, I'm not optimistic about doing this."

He checked the coast was clear and squeezed my bottom. "You'll be fine, come on."

"Back row of the rear car?"

"If you like."

"You'll hold my hand?"

"I will."

Within minutes, we were installed in the back row of the rear car, which is when Rob turned to me and said: "When we do the backwards bit, expect to experience a G-force of 5.2 when we re-enter the vertical loop at a reputed forty-seven miles per hour."

I stared at him.

"And just so you know, the back row of the train, where we are now, will be the first to re-enter the loop, meaning we'll enjoy one of the most forceful moments seen in steel roller-coaster design."

He nudged my leg with his.

"If you can do this, you can do anything."

And as the car started being pulled backwards up the lift hill behind the station, and we were out of sight of the attendants, he grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"I love you," he whispered.

We went on the Boomerang four times. It would have been five, but Rob was starting to feel queasy. I couldn't get enough of the high. That thing blew the years of forced compliance, of expectations, of "sit still and listen" and "get good grades so you have a good future" away and made me feel alive.

Rob West.

Thank god he showed me that there can be beauty on the other side of terror.

Thank god he showed me that life could be so saturated with vibrant colour it could make you breathless.

Thank god for Rob West.

*The best form of crisis management.