Critical acclaim for Taste the Bright Lights:
'This is the most terrifying book I've ever read...It’s scary because it bleeds truth. Incendiary reading. Exemplary writing. I read it in one sitting and couldn't move for an hour afterwards. In fact, I'm still having nightmares about it.'
'A powerful book that should be on all parents' buying list. Canning's writing is that rare thing in the world of books: original and totally honest. My teenagers loved this book and have given it five stars.'
'Stunning, gritty, heartbreaking.'
'Breathtaking...I finished it in one swoop and was totally amazed by it. Outstanding. By god it deserves a hearing.’
'This book completely knocked me sideways. Laura Canning's portrayal of the forgotten and misunderstood youth of today is vivid and shocking. It is fresh and original and speaks for the disenchanted voice of a generation much like Catcher in the Rye would have done to the youth of the 50s.'
'...destined for great things, one of those "important" novels that critics sometimes harp on about. All teenagers should read this book. One day I'm sure this book will be handed around the classroom as a lesson in what NOT to do after school. This is grim reality. But with that in mind, I'd recommend it to anyone, teenagers and adults alike.'
‘…both brutally stark and genuinely touching.... highly recommended.’
‘…remarkable work - should be a compulsory text on every educational curriculum.’
'…a powerful, vivid and enjoyable book, very highly recommended for both adults and teenagers. Incidentally, although it is set in Northern Ireland, the experiences of the characters are those of urban adolescents across the 'developed' world and will be recognized as clearly in London or New York as in Belfast.'
‘A work of complete honesty and authenticity. Should be on the school syllabus as a warning to children and teachers alike.’
Laura Canning grew up in Craigavon, N Ireland, where much of Taste the Bright Lights is set. She now lives in Belfast and works as a writer and editor, and is currently writing her second novel after completing the screenplay for the film version of Taste the Bright Lights. Both novel and film version are represented by an agent in the US. Her published journalism and contact details are available at her website www.lauracanning.net.
See also:
www.tastethebrightlights.com
Taste
the
Bright
Lights
Laura Canning
Taste the Bright Lights
Laura Canning
Airstrip One Publications
First edition 2008
This edition 2010
ISBN 978-0-9556855-1-4
Copyright © 2005-2010 Laura Canning
The moral rights of the author have been asserted. All rights reserved. Excepting short excerpts for review purposes, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
Part I
Everyone
1.
I don't know where to start, if I'm trying to tell it. How I ended up here? What happened with my ma? The baby?
Always begin at the beginning, my annoying old cow of an English teacher used to say. (Like you can begin anywhere else. Stupid bitch.) She always used to say as well, Make sure you have a beginning, a middle and an end, but it’ll be a long time before there’s an end to my story, I can tell you that now. I've got a bit of a beginning and a bit of a middle, but for any more, tough, I don’t know it myself.
Stuff it. I'll do what she calls ‘the who what why when where’, then say how it all happened from there. It had been building up for years, but since this was the weekend with Gonzo it’s as good a place to start as any.
Who: me, obviously, and Nicola, and this night Leanne Paddy and Marie was there as well as always. There was some other people there too but they don't count, they were just there and they had their own wee groups to hang around in. There were some fellas as well but I'll get to them later.
So, me. I’m called Lisa O'Neill and I'm fourteen and here I'm in the same class as Nicola, and I live with my ma who's called Carol and her husband who says he’s my stepda and who's called Paul. She works part time in a shop and he works full time in a garage. I have two wee brothers who’re twins and they’re nine and they’re called Anthony and Ryan. Well, they're not my real brothers cos Paul's their da, but if I say they're my half brothers Paul goes mental. I'd be happy if they weren't even my quarter brothers cos they're wee bastards as far as I’m concerned, whiny wee shits who know the score in our house even better than Paul and who use it all they can. I hate Paul as well, but my ma says I only don’t get on with him because I'm a grumpy bad tempered bitch. She's a charmer, my ma.
Anyway, that's me. Nicola's fourteen as well and she's my best mate. We've been best mates since we were in primary school and we stick up for each other no matter what. We’ve fell out once or twice but only for a few hours, we’re always fine after a bit. We stick together, me and Nicola, all our gang do.
Leanne's thirteen and she lives next door to Nicola. She's in the same class as Paddy who's a girl and is Paddy short for Patricia. Marie's her wee sister and she's twelve. We slag her off a lot cos she says dicky things sometimes. It’s Paddy who usually starts the slagging but sometimes she sticks up for her if she's feeling sisterly. We had a fight about it once, me and Paddy, when I slagged Marie off and Paddy had a go at me about it. But she slags Marie off more than anyone.
The What is what we were doing, and that’s sitting under a bridge with about ten other people, drinking. There's loads of bridges where we live cos there's a river runs right through all the estates down to the lakes. The river's brown and small and smells of shit.
That's the what. Why is cos it’s a laugh, obviously, no matter what shite they talk about binge drinking, and When is it’s half eight on a ballfreezing Saturday night six weeks after Christmas. (The day after Valentine’s Day and I hadn’t got any cards, big bloodying surprise.) We'd been out since after our teas cos we all told our mas we were going to the under 18s club night at the community centre and we were getting ready at Nicola's house. (Like we’d go to the under 18s club anyway. All warm watery orange squash and damp digestive biscuits and run by earnest people in Aran jumpers.) But saying we’re going there gives us longer to get drunk and then sobered up in time to get home for half eleven when the club's over. I have to be in at ten, though. Paul'd rather see me raped and murdered doing what he thinks is walking home from the club on my own, than let me stay out the same time as my mates. I'm always OK anyway cos Nicola and the rest of them walk me home cos of course we're not at the club atall. But he doesn’t know that, the bastard.
And the Where is where we live, a grim wee town, well not even a town, a hole, stuck in the middle of nowhere and called Craigavon. It’s all housing estates and fields and cycle paths with broken glass and dog shit. It’s not too bad growing up there cos there's loads of open space and stuff you can play cops and robbers in, but after you're about ten it's crap. There's nothing to do except sit in doorsteps and hang around, as my ma puts it, cheapening ourselves on street corners (my ma’s one to talk, you should see the state of her). There's a youth club but it's on Saturday nights and it finishes at nine and who's going to go to a youth club and play table tennis instead of going out getting blocked with their mates?
The bit of Craigavon we live in has our school in the middle of it and another big school just across the field from it. There's the reccy which is the leisure centre, and the library, and loads of wee crap pubs the neighbours and my ma and Paul drink in. There's a big shopping centre which is always being advertised on TV by posh shiny people who wouldn’t be seen dead in the bloody place, and there's a big lake which is a good place to drink a carryout at. The lake's always full of cider bottles and beer tins, like most places around it.
I don't know how anyone likes Craigavon, how anyone actually decides to live here. We, me and Nicola and Paddy and the rest, we can't help it cos we're forced to. My ma says she likes it and that it's nice and quiet but that's only cos she's thirty five and dead from the neck up. I don't think Paul likes it too much really, but he's the type would only be happy in a big mansion with a sports car and a swimming pool and a troupe of blonde Page 3 girls hanging round his neck. And even then he’d probably moan that their boobs were plastic.
Anyway, that’s who we were and what we were doing. At half eight we were well on the way to getting drunk, specially me cos I was drinking a bit faster than everyone else cos I had to be in ages earlier. I'm the only one out of us who drinks cider, I like the taste of it. I like the way you get a big bottle of it as well, I love swigging from a two litre bottle, it feels like you're really drinking. The only thing I don’t like about it is when it’s ballfreezing cold like tonight, cos you need both hands to hold the bottle, and after a bit they turn into iceblocks. I don’t have gloves.
Marie likes beer and she was on Harp or Carlsberg or something like that, one of the ones that looks like pish. (I don't like beer, it tastes like those ugly spotty fellas who always try to snog you round the back of the community centre after the club, the ones who never come near you til they're drunk and all the nice looking girls have been taken.) Paddy likes beer as well, but cos Marie was having it tonight she wouldn't drink it cos it was for kids, so she was trying to be sophisticated and grown up with a quarter bottle of vodka and some Coke. It did look good with her I have to say, I thought I might try it myself next week if I could get the money. Leanne likes alcopops, she was on the blue WKDs tonight, she normally is, but sometimes she has Smirnoff Ice or a Wee Beastie. I don't mind alcopops but they're a bit sweet.
But anything is better than Buckfast, Nicola’s drink for the night. It’s called tonic wine but it doesn’t look like wine, it looks like blood and if you pour a drop out onto a table it congeals. Everyone drinks it round here. I’ve tried it myself but it tastes like cough medicine and after a few slugs I go off it. Nicola loves it. Toenails we call it, even the people who like it, cos the last mouthful of it tastes like feet.
I told Nicola this, again, as she was getting stuck into the Bucky, but she was too busy trying to get the label off the bottle in one piece. If you do that it's a year's good luck. I don't know why Nicola bothers cos she did do it once and she sprained her ankle in netball on the Monday. She says the good luck is she didn't break it. Nicola's like that. She’d annoy you sometimes.
Veronica, one of the other ones, was telling some story about getting caught smoking in the bogs at school. She was drinking Buckfast as well tonight but she’d near finished it. She left it down for a minute to go into the bushes to have a pish and Nicola said, Here, c’mon put toenails in it—
We were just getting our socks off when Veronica came back. What're you doing? she ses, looking at us all suspicious.
Sore foot, Nicola ses. Veronica looks at me.
Itchy leg, I ses, thinking this is quite clever cos I was wearing boots so I would’ve had to take one off if I had of wanted to scratch my leg. She knew we were spoofing but she didn't know why, and face it, you can hardly turn round to someone and say You were going to put toenails in my Buckfast weren't you? So she had to let on to believe us, and she sat down and lit up a smoke and we all called it.
Veronica's very tight with her smokes and by the time I got it there was hardly a draw left in it. I tutted a wee bit but Veronica let on she didn't hear me. I took the only draw out of it I could, burning the mouth off myself, and I flicked the butt into the river. The water was black cos it was so dark and I was trying to see the smoke butt bobbing up and down, but then I saw a black shadow on the water. Then it moved, and I heard something, then there was a cop sliding down the embankment. I turned round to hiss Peelers! and there was two more coming under the bridge from the other side.
We all jumped then froze, except for Nicola who slid her Buckfast bottle quietly and professionally up her sleeve. That’s always a good move but it's a bit harder to do with a two litre barrack buster 20% extra free. But I'd put my bottle down before to have the draw off the smoke, so I just slid gently out of my coat and dropped that over the bottle and hoped the peelers wouldn't notice.
They started asking everyone’s stats, so I got my false name and address and date of birth all ready in my head, and I hoped no-one was going to mess things up for us by mouthing, or forgetting their false name, or trying to hang onto their drink when the peelers took it off us. I was totally dead if I got lifted.
The peelers started in on us, demanding our names and addresses like they were in CSI or something. They were with this dick in our year, Gonzo Foster, and they started with him. But he was already blocked and he started acting all Rebel Without a Clue, wobbling about and squinting at them from under his baseball cap, and going What do you need to know my name for? like he thought he was famous or something. I thought, Shut up you dick, before you get us all lifted. One of the peelers was getting pretty pissed off and I was getting scared, cos if they’re pissed off then they’ll lift you. But one of Gonzo’s mates kicked him on the leg and told him to wise up and stop acting the maggot, and Gonzo gave his stats to the peelers OK in the end.
I was next, and I hadn’t been able to think of a name except stuff like Pussy Galore or Fanny Adams, so I had to say the name I’d had last time and hope none of them were the same peelers. I said a false address as well, and I kept the day and month of my date of birth, but I said I was born in 1989 instead of 1993. The peeler gave me a funny look when I said I was 18, like he was wondering why if we were all 18 we were freezing our tits and balls off under this bridge instead of legally being in a nice warm pub, but I stood my ground and looked at him and tried to look older and wiser beyond my years, and finally he looked away.
When they’d took everyone’s stats they made us give them all the booze that was lying around, and then the ballbags poured it into the river. Like the river didn’t have enough booze in it already with all the fellas pissing in it. Then the peelers said, all menacing and CSI, Don’t let us catch you round here again! Then they were away.
We waited til we knew they definitely were away and not just being gitsers hiding round the corner to come back in a minute, then we started the salvage. I was a happy wee bunny cos they hadn’t seen my cider, and Nicola still had her Bucky up her sleeve. Leanne had lost the blue WKD the peelers had seen her drinking but she still had one up a sleeve and another one in her coat. Paddy had stuck her vodka in the waistband of her jeans but the peelers had poured the rest of her Coke out cos they wouldn't believe her it was just Coke and they wouldn't taste it in case it wasn't. But she had some Coke already mixed in the vodka bottle, so she was OK. Marie had lost her beer but she was already half cut, same as Gonzo who'd lost his Bucky.
When everyone’d calmed down a wee bit Nicola ses to me, Here Lisa, what were yeh doing with that peeler?
I didn't know what she meant, but she said, The way you were looking at him when he asked yeh your age, what were you doing?
So I said I was trying to look older, that I was doing an expression of being old and wise beyond my years.
—Oh, ses Nicola, —it looked like yeh were trying to have a shite.
2.
Anyhoo, time to move on we thought, just in case the peelers decided to check under the bridge again next time they were driving past. We were going to the abandoned estate instead so me and Nicola got gathered, getting our drink hidden and our coats buttoned up over the bottles. Then Nicola ses to me,
Here, Gonzo was really cool there with that peeler wasn’t he?
She said it all casual but me not fooled. We never giggle and swoon about fellas, none of us does, but if someone ses a fella’s name and it’s not in the same sentence as He’s a dick – then it usually means something.
—Gonzo Foster! I said. —Are yeh mad!
—No but, she ses, —he was really cool—
Nicola. That wee girl’s head’s a marley.
3.
The night was getting good once we got to the estate, cos everyone was a bit pissed by now and there was starting to be handbags at dawn. Veronica and Paddy were taking the huff with each other cos Veronica had slagged Marie off about losing her beer to the peelers. Marie was leaving Paddy to it and joining in with Leanne starting to slag Denise off cos Denise was meant to have touted on Leanne for skiving off maths yesterday. And Nicola was letting on to slag Gonzo but she wasn’t fooling me, cos she was calling him a dick but doing it in a soppy kind of voice. She saw me looking at her and she came over.
—Close your mouth, she said, —you’ll get flies in it—
—Gonzo Foster! I said. —You fancy Gonzo Foster!
—No I don’t! she ses.
I grabbed my throat and let on to swoon.
—Oh Gonzo, I said, —Oh you’re so cool with the peelers Gonzo, oh press me to your manly rebellious chest Gonzo—
Nicola thumped me and said I was talking shite, but then she went back over to him, so I knew what way her eggs were working. I went over to Leanne and Marie cos I’d seen them light up a smoke.
—Leave us a couple of draws—
Marie passed me the smoke. —Keep dick for us, she ses, and her and Leanne went round the bushes to have a pish.
I thought later on that I was a jinx or that someone was trying to tell me to give up smoking, cos when I flicked the butt away this time I saw two peelers melting out of the side of one of the sheds. Shit, I thought, and I looked round to see if I could get away, but it was the same as last time cos of course there was another one coming at us from the other side. They must learn Ambushing at peeler school.
This was shite indeed, cos we all know it’s only down to peelers’ moods whether you get lifted or not, and we’d already been lucky tonight. I got my face straight and my eyes focused ready to do my Honeshtly offisher I’m as shober as a judge. I had a bit of time anyway cos the two of them by the sheds had found Paddy and Mark in them. (Paddy looked well scundered getting scooped with Mark, she always said she wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole attached to another ten foot pole, so that vodka must work well all right.)
But me, I was on my own here, cos if Leanne and Marie had of had any sense they would’ve scarpered. I wondered could I sneaky over to Nicola and Gonzo for a bit of moral support. I eyeballed them. They weren’t too far. I started sneakying.
I was near over when I heard, And where do you think you’re going!
I pulled up like I’d been shot. One of the peelers was tearing up to me.
—I said, he shouts, —where do you think you’re going? Did I say any of you could go anywhere?
I thought Bloody hell peeler who rattled your cage, have you not had your kebab and doughnut tonight or something? But then I made my mistake cos I looked over at Nicola. She was near pissing herself laughing at me getting scooped, her face was all purple and she had tears coming out of her eyes. When she saw me looking at her she started doing a silent pisstake of the peeler shouting and of me stood there froze.
Oh god don’tlaughdon’tlaugh, I thought, but a big snort came out of me anyway, and then I heard Nicola giggling.
—Do you two think this is funny! the peeler ses, eyeballing me like I’d murdered someone. It was a pretty stupid question cos of course I thought it was funny, any tit could see that cos I was hiccuping and laughing and my eyes were watering. I could hear Nicola snorting with trying not to laugh.
But I caught myself on and wheezed No—
I tried to look all sorry and humble as well. And not like I was trying to have a shite. I even hung my head for a second before I thought he might think I was taking the piss.
My pathetic looking mug was too much for Nicola. She let out a huge whoop of a laugh, and that was me set off as well.
—RIGHT! the peeler shouts, obviously about to get Very Angry Indeed. But then Gonzo jumped forward and shouted Leave them alone, yeh fat bastard!
and that was it, the three of us lifted.
4.
The giggles went away pretty bloody quick, you better believe it. It was funny til the door slammed on the copcar, then it wasn’t funny so quick you’d’ve thought my laugh had been killed by the slam. Paul was going to kill me Paul was going to kill me—
The car reeked of Bucky, it was all you could smell even with the windows rolled down. Gonzo still had his political head on him, he was scrunched down into his coat muttering SS RUC into his collar, like the dick didn’t even know they were called the Nips now. Nicola had stopped laughing as well. She was staring out the window with a tragic expression on her mug, like someone looking out to sea in memory of her dead husband. And me—
I was dead I was dead I was dead.
If the door hadn’t of been locked I might’ve tried to jump out and take my chances with my face being scraped off the top of the road, but even though peelers are pretty thick they’re not that dim. So I sat and shat myself while they dropped Gonzo off at his house and we watched him getting dragged in by his ma. That was bad but it was worse watching Nicola. Her ma looked all horrified and shocked, and then she looked over to the car at me and made me feel like bawling for doing what they call letting her down. I really like Nicola’s ma, she’s fed me and been really good to me, and now she thought I was a dick.
Still. That was nothing compared to how I felt when the copcar pulled up outside my house. It’s probably a mixture of the drink and the fear, but I don’t remember getting out of the car, don’t remember nothing til Paul opened the door.
—Is this your daughter? the peeler ses to him, pushing me forward a bit (police brutality).
Paul looked at me, all serious so the peeler can think what a good dad he is.
—She’s the wife’s, he ses.
(Bloody lovely, I must say—)
The peeler goes,
—Well, we’ve come across her and her pals
(pals! Wise up would yeh!)
having a wee drink tonight, and I don’t think she’s 18, is she?
—No, she is not indeed, Paul ses. He let on to give me a dirty look. I say let on cos it was mild for him, he was just putting it on in front of the peeler.
Anyway, I don’t remember what else they said, just tutting and young people nowadays and I’ll deal with her now officer sort of stuff. The peeler waited til I was inside the house and the door had closed behind me before he went away, so there was no escape.
I don’t remember too much either about the next few minutes, I only have wee snatches of it, like a slide show on a screensaver. It’s always the same anyway. I remember him shouting at me I was a drunken wee slut, and I remember laughing at all his empty beer bottles sitting beside the couch. I remember him hitting me. I remember trying to hit him back, and I remember him opening the door and me hitting the wall when he threw me into the hall by my hair and told me to get up to bed now you fat useless slag.
5.
So that’s the lovely Paul.
There was loads of things that made what happened happen, but mostly it was cos of Paul and my ma, and me wanting to get away from them no matter what. I hate living with them and I hate Paul as well. People think you’re a dick when you’re fourteen, you stay out late and take loads of drugs and make your ma and da all worried and be a stroppy bitch just for the sake of it. They don’t know what it’s like, living with people you hate and who hate you and thump you, but who control your life anyway. If you say anything you get hit and if you run away the peelers always believe them and take you back home. I hadn’t a clue a few months ago.
I went to live with my ma when I was five. Before that I was living with my granny but she died so my ma had to take me back. I was living with my granny since I was a baby so I don’t remember living anywhere else. I don’t really remember much about living with her either. The house was dark and brown and I didn’t like the food she gave me and she always smacked me and my room was small and cold. I don’t remember my ma ever coming to see me so I cried when she came to take me to live with her cos I didn’t know who she was. I don’t think my granny ever told me anything about her and I don’t remember asking. I was a quiet wee kid. I just got on with things.
But one day I came home from school and there was loads of people at the front door, and when they saw me they went all quiet so I thought I’d done something and I was about to get smacked. Some old lady who lived next door took me inside and said, Your granny’s away to heaven. I said Why, and she said, God wanted her. What about my tea, I said, my granny always makes me my tea. I’ll make you your tea, she said, but I still didn’t catch on, I still thought my granny was coming back.
I stayed with the old lady next door for a few days, and I think they were going to put me into care cos I had to talk to a woman who I think now must’ve been a social worker. Everything I told her she wrote down and there were loads of times she was talking to the neighbour and I wasn’t allowed in. But then my ma came back and I had to go and live with her.
I didn’t know my ma when I saw her, she didn’t look like a ma at all. She came into the neighbour’s house and hugged me and I pulled away. But the neighbour came downstairs with my wee nightie and toothbrush and said I was going to live with my ma now. I didn’t mind I suppose. I’d thought my ma was in heaven with my granny but if everyone said this woman was my ma then she must be, and it was better than living with the neighbour. So me and my ma got on a bus and came to her house. It was dark and cold like my granny’s.
I didn’t really like living with my ma, but I hadn’t really liked living with my granny either, and when you’re only a wee kid you just have to put up with things. I thought that’s just how things were and that I’d have to wait til I grew up and got a job so I could live by myself. But it wasn’t fair, any of it. My ma hit me far more than my granny had and it was hardly ever for anything that was my fault. I’d get up in the morning and she’d hit me. I’d spill milk from my cereal on the table and she’d hit me. She was always in a bad mood and always shouting at me, and the house was always dark and cold. When I think of myself at that age I always see myself crying.
But the next year Paul came to live with us and that was even worse. My ma just ignored me and left everything up to him as soon as he was living with us, especially after she had the two devil children later that year. He got picking if I got to do things, and he always said no and always hit me if I said why. He didn’t hit me the way my ma did either. My ma could really belt, she would hammer you and have you sniffling tears and snot in the corner, but Paul punched, he beat you up. Every weekend, every single one, there would be a time where I’d be lying on my bed cos he’d hit me, lying there not even crying cos it was too sore. And it was the unfairness of it that got to me, even at six and seven and eight. I didn’t have to do anything to get hit. I wasn't a bad kid. I would see other mums and dads with their kids, laughing and playing with them, and it was so unfair these kids had that and I didn’t that I wanted to die from it.
I ran away the first time when I was about nine. Paul was even worse cos the devil twins were about three then and they tortured the lot of us so Paul was even more grumpy and thumpy than normal. I thought that if I ran away then my ma would realise how much I hated Paul and she’d kick him out. I should’ve knew better by that age but I can be pretty thick sometimes.
Anyway, I ran away. I had it all worked out and planned like a military operation. I stashed food for a couple of weeks, nicking the odd tin from the kitchen cupboard and putting it in my wardrobe. I lifted a box of matches one day from the living room. I knew as well I should nick money from Paul’s jeans or from my ma’s purse but I didn’t dare. Once I’d made up my mind I was going I was really impatient, and it was hard to wait til I thought I had enough stuff, but I made myself. Then one Saturday I got up really early, and I got my bag with the food and the matches and my school jumper in it. And I just left. There was a bit just down the road where I wanted to go back, but when I looked back at the house the light had gone on and I knew if I went back my ma would hit me for being out so early. So I just went on.
The peelers brought me back that night. I didn’t know outside our estate that well and I wandered miles and got lost. I didn’t get lost enough but, I should’ve gone miles away into the countryside, burrowed my way in and found somewhere to hide. But I stuck too close to one of the main roads so it was easy enough to find me when they were driving along. They caught me and brought me back home and Paul near killed me. I was trying not to let the peelers know who I was cos I thought if they didn’t know my name they couldn’t take me back home. But my ma had phoned up and said I was missing, so they knew who I was. I don’t know why my ma bothered reporting me missing cos she didn’t seem all that glad to have me back. She probably only did it cos she didn’t want anyone asking why she hadn’t. Anyway, I had to stay in bed all day on Sunday cos I was too sore and bruised to get up. At school on Monday I couldn’t do PE and I had to let on I’d fell down the stairs cos I was too scundered to say my ma’s boyfriend had beat me up.
The next time I was twelve and I thought that’s it, I’m going to do it proper so I don’t have to come back ever. So I nuck twenty quid from Paul’s jeans one Saturday night when him and my ma were lying asleep. I waited til a Saturday night cos I knew they’d come back pissed and there’d be less chance of them waking up. But it was still one the scariest things I’ve ever done. Creeping into their room which smelt of sweat and beer, picking up his jeans and holding the belt in my fist so the buckle wouldn’t jangle and wake them up, going through the pockets fast, fast, knowing if he woke up and caught me he’d put me in hospital. But I found a twenty pound note and that did me, I didn’t bother about the change I could hear in the other pocket. I went back to my room and waited til dawn and then I was away again.
I almost made it down south on the Dublin train but they caught me at Newry and brought me back home in a peeler car. After the peelers were away Paul threw me across the kitchen. I mean really threw me, he picked me up and hurled me into the cupboards. When I woke up I was lying heaped on my bed and I woke up more angry than I’ve ever felt in my whole life. I was raging at Paul for doing it and at my ma for watching and telling him to go on, but I was raging at the peelers as well. You’d think if someone runs away from home more than once that the peelers’d twig something’s wrong, or at least ask if it was. But they just dumped me at home and they must’ve known from Paul’s face I was going to get a hammering. They just didn’t care. They were probably glad because they’d had to look for me.
Anyway, I was raging when I woke up and I didn’t care what happened to me then and I still don’t. I just have to get the next couple of years in so I can leave this hole of a place and live on my own.
6.
I had a tongue like a budgie cage the next day. People say you don't really get hangovers when you're young, they get worse the older you get, so if that's the case I'd better stop drinking when I'm about 18. My head wasn't too sore but my stomach was killing me and I was so thirsty I'd've drank milk straight from the cow's tit. I lay in bed dying for a drink of something, but I didn't want to go downstairs in case my ma or Paul were up. But at some point my ma burst into my room anyway, screaming at me how dare I talk to Paul like that and I was an ungrateful lying wee bitch, and I was grounded for two months, but I could stay in my room the whole time cos no-one in the house wanted to look at me. (She hit me round the head the whole time she was screaming all this, it was the only part of me out of the duvet.)
It was fine by me anyway. Like I wanted to look at them either.
7.
Thank god for school on Monday. Paul and my ma still weren't talking to me, like I was meant to care. But I was dying to get out of the house, and I wanted to see what had happened to Nicola. Her ma and da were all right, but she'd probably still have got killed for bringing the peelers to her door. Parents hate that, but only because it makes them look bad. It’s why the kid gets hammered for it, for making the neighbours’ curtains twitch. Even Nicola’s ma and da might have went mental about it.
Nicola normally called for me but she didn't that morning cos she was scared my ma would shout at her. She waited for me at the end of the road instead. As soon as we saw each other we started laughing. I felt all right.
—Did your ma and da kill you? I said to Nicola. It mustn't've been too bad, cos she looked like she was in a brilliant mood.
—Ach, a wee bit just, she said. —I have to be in at nine every night this week—
See?
—What happened you? she said.
—Nothing, I said. —Grounded. No big deal.
*
It just shows how crap it is at home when you actually feel better going into school. We got a big YEEOOOWWW! in form class when we walked in, cos everyone’d heard about us getting lifted and we were famous. Kelly Rice, well, Colabottlehead me and Nicola call her cos her hair’s bleached blonde with about six inches of dark roots, anyway, she was sitting on her desk looking like someone had waved a shitty stick under her big nose. She tried to be snattery about it, giving us a dirty look from under all her gel and going, Hear you got lifted the other night, by the peelers—
but Nicola just ses to her, Who else do you think would be lifting us, you stupid bitch—
and Kelly shut her gob pretty fast. She was just jealous anyway. She was really pissed off cos everyone kept asking us what happened and were we scared. They were all wimps, thinking getting lifted was scary. Tony Devlin asked me about the big bruise on my leg and I was dying to say it was the peelers wot done it, but in the end I just said I didn’t know.
It was great being famous. OK, so people were talking to Nicola more, especially the fellas, but it was great anyway. It didn’t last though, course it didn’t. We had biology first class, and we were on the Reproduction chapter this week, and Conor McVeigh was running around telling everyone we’d have to put condoms on bananas.
Nicola went white.
—Do we? she said to me, all quiet so no-one could hear her.
—I don’t know—
I was shitting it now. OK, so I didn’t want to look like I knew how to use a condom, cos that would make me a SLUT, but I didn’t want to look stupid either. And if I couldn’t put it on all the fellas would say Sure what do you expect, she’ll never get the chance to touch one of them, who’d go near her—
We should’ve knew Conor McVeigh was taking the piss. Fitzy just waffled on about plants and stamens and seed scattering (Conor started doing wank movements under the table), but there was nothing about people or condoms or anything scundering at all. There was a Human Reproduction bit next in our textbook, but Fitzy just ses, For your homework you have to read that and answer the questions at the end—
and that was our reproduction class.
But anyway, forget all that. That day was Nicola acting weird. She’s pretty confident usually, a lot more than me, so I wouldn’t’ve thought she would’ve minded even if we had of had to put a condom on a banana. But she was scundered even thinking about it. And then she went all funny in the yard at break time when we were having our smoke. She just took a beamer out of nowhere. I'd only said Did you do your French homework, and I couldn't see what was so scundering about that, I already knew she fancied Antoine the French student teacher.
But then I looked round to the other side of the yard, and there was that dick Gonzo again. He was having a smoke with Conor McVeigh and Tony Devlin, and he was still acting the dick, reeling around and waving his arms about and talking shite. I couldn’t hear him but I knew he was.
Then they all looked over at us.
Course I'd like to think they were saying, Here, isn't that Lisa O'Neill one lovely? but I didn't come down the river in a bubble, so I ses to Nicola, Maybe Gonzo fancies you.
—Aye right, Nicola ses, but her face was still burning, so I thought it must be her fancying him to make her take the reddener, not that I could see why. The fellas had stopped looking over at us but now they were laughing, and Gonzo was still flailing his arms about like a demented bloody penguin. He really annoyed me. He annoyed me as well cos he was ugly, with his big hooky nose and wee weasly eyes, but girls still go out with him, and I'm ugly as well and none of the fellas'll come near me. Even if a girl’s only a wee bit ugly a fella won't go out with her, and him and his mates call her a dog. But a fella can be really ugly and girls will still go out with him. It’s not fair.
I never get going out with anyone, and I’d get laughed at if I asked. I know people sometimes say they’re ugly and they’re not, they have that body morph thing or they’re just fishing for compliments, but I really am. (And that’s why I’d never say it to anyone.) But people have called me it. One fella used to follow me home when I was in second year, saying every day I was the ugliest wee girl he’d ever seen. He used to say it real loud as well, so everyone heard him. Every day for three weeks til he got sick of it, for the whole fifteen minutes home, with half the school following him and laughing and going She is isn’t she. And my ma never buys me any new clothes so I've only got one pair of jeans and a couple of tops she doesn’t want. The tops are baggy to hide my bum cos the jeans are too small, and people call me fat as well.
And there's that dick Gonzo, uglier than me I think on the scale, and he can go out with anyone and no-one would ever think of calling him ugly. Fellas sicken me sometimes.
8.
By Tuesday night I was going nuts. When I came home from school I had to go straight up to my room and stay there all night. I do that normally anyway, cos anything's better than looking at Paul's face, but now I couldn't even go out after my dinner for a smoke. And Anthony and Ryan were near getting threw out the window cos they kept coming into my room to torture me, cos they knew I couldn’t do anything cos then Paul would kill me more.
School was getting crap now as well, cos Nicola was no company cos she was still acting weird. She kept shouting Piss off to Tony Devlin and Conor McVeigh when they were whispering and sniggering and nudging each other. But I couldn’t see why, cos they do that all the time anyway, they think they’re great. Nicola said she knew it was about her. But she didn’t say why.
Anyway, we went in on the Wednesday morning, but as soon as we got in through the door Tony and Conor started laughing again. They were looking at Nicola this time though right enough. Then Conor looked right at Nicola, and then he said,
—But I don’t know what to doooo!
and him and Tony started laughing.
I don’t know what it meant, but Nicola went mad. She stormed over to their desk in about two seconds flat, and she lifted her arm up and she whacked Conor round the face. It was so hard he near fell over. And his face, big shocked amazed eyes. It made me smile for weeks after.
Everyone else in the class sat up, they were loving this and they were waiting to see what Conor would do. He probably didn’t know himself at first cos the birds were still flying round his head singing. Nicola was still stood in front of him giving him the death stare. Then he copped on everyone was looking at him and waiting to see what he’d do, so he said Bitch! at Nicola, and he tried to launch himself over the desk to hit her. But Nicola must’ve thumped him real good, cos he misjudged the distance and then he got his feet tangled up, and he hit the desk face first. Oh it was beautiful.
—C’mon, Nicola said to me, —do yeh want to mitch—
—Yeah, I said, and we swept out of the classroom like I was cool.
9.
We’d go nicking up at the shopping centre we thought. This is what I mean about how things just spiralled after Saturday, cos we got caught. Not caught mitching by a teacher which would’ve been bad enough, but caught nicking by a shop. Cops, parents, the lot.
It was the first time caught for me or Nicola, we’re normally good at nicking. But she was still in that weird mood and maybe she wasn’t careful enough. I don’t know. I was keeping the eye out for her and she looked like she was doing everything all right. But we got caught.
We’d went into Superdrug first, cos we just wanted to nick something, anything, for the laugh, and wee smelly things are the easiest. But there was a snattery shop assistant who kept eyeballing us over the shelves, so we thought we should leave it. I’d been wanting to nick some foundation as well. I know makeup’s not going to work like plastic surgery and suddenly make me a supermodel, but it must do something or else people wouldn’t wear it. No chance though with Gorilla Features leering at us from over the shampoo.
So we went into JJB Sports cos Nicola said she wanted to rob a Man United shirt. Who’s that for, I said, and she said, Chris. But she looked a bit guilty when she said it. Chris is her brother and he lives in England, he’s class. I didn’t think he was coming home, she hadn’t said. Anyway, we went down to the back of the shop where the football tops were, and I had a nosy about for the shop assistants. There was a girl at the till stabbing a pricing gun into pairs of shorts like they’d personally offended her, and a fella beside her with big sideburns thinking he was god’s gift.
I kept dick and Nicola pulled the security tag off the top and stuffed it up her jumper. When I turned round to check if she’d finished I near fainted, cos she looked pregnant and it was weird, seeing her like that when I didn’t expect it. But then she flattened the top against her stomach so she just looked fat, and we went towards the exit.
Going out of a shop’s always the worst bit, cos you never know if they haven’t seen you or they’re just letting on they haven’t, til you’re actually out and have actually nuck. Your heart thumps and you wait for the hand on your shoulder,
and this time it came.
The rush of shock I got when I knew we’d been scooped was like being shoved into a tank of cold water. All I could think about was Paul. They called the cops and I know I should’ve been worrying about that, but I couldn’t even think about them. I was still sore from Saturday, and this was far worse.
So, the peelers came in, and we got took home again. We didn’t know yet if we had to go to court cos the girl in the shop said it was up to the manager whether to press charges. But stuff court, I thought, I was only worried about Paul and my ma.
My ma was the only one in when the peelers knocked on the door, and when she got me on her own she screamed at me like a banshee. She thumped me til she got too tired to do it any more, and she shouted all the time about Just! You! Wait! Just! You! Wait! Til He Gets Home! But of course that was nothing compared to what happened when he did get home. I’m not even going to write about it cos how many times can you say He hit me.
10.
—What are you looking at?
—A slag—
Nicola’s face went red, just like that, in about a second.
—WHAT – DID – YOU – CALL – ME?
Kelly wasn’t bothered.
—A slag—
We were in form class waiting for Hornball to turn up. It was the day after me and Nicola were scooped for nicking the Man U shirt, and when we came in everyone turned round to look at us the way they do when they’ve been talking about you. Kelly Colabottlehead was sitting on her desk in front of Tony Devlin and Conor McVeigh, and she stared at us the most. I thought it was something to do with yesterday, but she was mostly looking at Nicola.
She said to Tony and Conor,
—Here she is, now—
Nicola glared at her. She said, What are you looking at—
Kelly said, A slag, and that was it. By the time she said it again Nicola was over at her desk. She pulled Kelly off it by the hair. Kelly bounced to the ground (flashing her skiddy knickers ha ha), but Tony and Conor dived in and pulled Nicola off and picked Kelly up. I pushed forward as well, cos jumping in isn’t allowed.
Nicola and Kelly stood glaring at each other, out of breath. They looked like a couple of cats. Kelly pounced first.
—You are a slag, she said, —we all know you shagged Gonzo Foster at the weekend—
There was a big dramatic gasp from everyone, I near expected the Eastenders drum roll to start up.
Nicola shouted, No I didn’t!
Tony broke the rules again.
—You did, he said, cos he told me—
—Then he’s talking shite, I said. I jumped in cos Tony had and we needed two against two, and cos I knew it was all a load of crap. None of us have ever done it with anyone. We’d know.
Then Conor said what he’d said on Monday. And now that I thought about it I’d heard a few times this week as well. He put on a high-pitched voice and went, But I don’t know what to doooo!
And Nicola just screamed, Shut up!
I turned round to look at her, to see how upset she was, cos if she cried, cried in front of all these bitches, she’d never live it down. And I was going to back her up no matter what, cos she was my best mate and we always back each other up.
And I saw from her face that it was true.
I didn’t let on. I’d like to say it was only cos of loyalty to her. But it was really cos I’d already said Gonzo was talking shite, and cos if Kelly Rice said black I’d say white just to piss her off. I didn’t feel loyal towards Nicola at all right then. I was raging at her.
Nicola had screamed real loud and for a second no-one said anything. It was better than a row in the Queen Vic, this. Nicola’s scream floated off the walls. Then Kelly Colabottlehead stuck her face in Nicola’s and said, You know rightly you did. He’s told us, you slag!
Nicola headbutted her.
Kelly was asking for it anyway, sticking her face in Nicola’s range like that. She was lucky cos she saw Nicola’s dome coming at her in time to jump back, so she only got watery eyes instead of a bloody nose.
—There’s no need to cry about it, Kelly, Nicola said, even though she knew fine well Kelly’s eyes were watering cos she’d just been clamped in the nose.
Kelly was ripping, she near had steam coming out of her ears. But Nicola pissed her off bigtime, cos she turned her back on her and then she said to me, Are you coming out for a smoke?
Yeah I bloody am, I thought, cos I wanted to know why my best friend hadn’t told me about the most important thing you could tell your best friend about. We went out.
By the time we got round the side of the block I could see Nicola was scundered, she knew I knew. But I didn’t care, I was raging. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t told me, I couldn’t believe it. And I couldn’t believe she’d done it in the first place. I know that makes me sound like an old granny but I don’t mean it like that. I mean the way you can’t do anything like that round here, if you’re a girl anyway, without the fella spreading it about to everyone and then everyone calling you a SLUT. We all know who the girl is in year nine who shagged someone at the year eleven party. We know who let someone grope her tits under the bridge on a carryout Saturday. And we know how they’re called a SLUT for doing it. You just can’t do anything like that round here, not if you’re a girl, not unless it's in deadly secret with a dumb Australian bloke who’s flying back home straight after. I’m dying to know what it's all about but I’ve got my imaginary chastity belt on til I’m older and no-one can slag me off for it. Or til I move away and no-one knows me.
I don’t let on to anyone I think about stuff like this, cos thinking about it would still be being a SLUT. And cos they’d just say, Sure who’d go with that ugly bitch anyway—
Nicola lit our smoke and we stood there for a bit.
—It’s not true, she said.
—Aye right!
I could’ve hit her. I was her best friend.
—Why didn’t you tell me?
—It’s not true!
—I know it’s true, I said, —I can see it in your face—
She didn’t deny it quick enough this time, then she didn’t deny it at all.
I got even madder. I can’t explain it, I was just so pissed off at her. This was the biggest thing that could happen and she hadn’t told me. I would’ve told her.
—Why didn’t you tell me? I shouted at her.
—I don’t have to tell you everything!
—Yeah, but you could’ve told me this!
—I don’t have to tell you everything, Lisa! she shouted back.
—I know, I said, but you could’ve told me this, it’s a big deal—
I said it calmly enough but Nicola flipped. She looked straight at me and blew smoke out and said, Why are you so interested anyway? Cos you know no fella’ll ever go near you—