Teen Dreams Book 4

Teen Dreams.

Book 4.

Don Carter

© 2023 Don Carter. All rights reserved.

Contents

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19.

Chapter 20.

Chapter 21.

Chapter 22.

Chapter 23.

Chapter 24.

Chapter 25.

Chapter 26.

Chapter 27.

Chapter 28.

Chapter 29.

Chapter 30.

Chapter 31.

Chapter 32.

Chapter 33.

Chapter 34.

Chapter 35.

 

 

Chapter 1.

We touched down at Manchester Airport at six forty-seven am on the sixteenth of June and, by the time I’d deplaned, retrieved my luggage and gone through customs and immigration, or passport control as it was also known, it was nearly nine. I found Mum waiting for me in the arrivals hall branch of Costa Coffee.

We hugged.

“Welcome home,” she said.

“I’m glad to be back,” I said, “and I’m looking forward to your cooking Mum.”

“Well, why don’t you get yourself a coffee and when I’ve finished mine, we’ll get on the road?” she said, “how was the flight.”

“Nearly twelve hours, but at least it was non-stop. I didn’t have to change.”

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked.

“Some, but remember my body thinks it’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“Then forget the coffee, we’d better get you home, it’s long past your bedtime.”

I laughed, she was still worrying about my bedtime. She finished her coffee and we headed out to the car park.

As we pulled out of the car park Mum turned to glance at me.

“What are your immediate plans?” she asked.

“Immediate?” I asked, “sleep. Then take a month off and recharge. After that I’ll have to start learning lines for Star Academy 2.”

“When do you start work on that?” she asked.

“August the second,” I replied, “four weeks of rehearsals then a seven-week shooting schedule, mainly at Pinewood, with some location work. And before that all happens, I have to learn to drive.”

“Well the good news is your licence has arrived,” she said, “so you can start as soon as you like.”

“Well, today is Wednesday, I’m going to take a few days just to rest and decompress and then I’ll try for the beginning of next week,” I said, “do you know if anyone around home does one of those intensive courses, aimed at getting you through the test quickly?”

“No,” she replied, “but I’ll have a look while you’re in bed.”

“Thanks, Mum, but please, don’t let me sleep for more than a couple of hours, I want to be able to sleep tonight and get back into a proper rhythm.”

We made good time on the way home and arrived just before eleven. Mum insisted on cooking me breakfast before I climbed the stairs wearily up to my room. I didn’t bother getting undressed, just took my shoes off, lay down and was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

I had a dream. I was walking along a beach, it was deserted apart from me and my companion, we walked along the water’s edge, barefoot and hand in hand.

“You’re home now David,” she said in a voice at once familiar, yet strange, “back in your own world. Now it’s time to go back to real life, time to move on. Don’t forget what we had, David, but go out now and find something new. Goodbye, my love.”

Then she started to say my name, softly, over and over, before her voice morphed into that of my mother.

“Come on sleepy-head, it’s time to wake up.”

As I climbed out of my bed she looked at me.

“David, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I did, in a way,” I replied and told her about the dream.

“People often have that sort of dream when they’ve lost a loved one,” she said, “some people believe it’s the loved one reaching out to tell them that it’s all right to move on, to find someone or something new. Others think it’s just your own unconscious mind telling it to you. You’ll probably have other dreams as well as time goes on.”

My answer was to sigh deeply.

“Anyway, what are you going to do for the rest of the afternoon?” she asked.

“I thought that I’d wait until Alison gets home from school, then we could go downtown and look at cars.”

“You’d let your sister go with you to look at cars?” she asked.

“Well, given that once I pass my test, she’ll probably regard it as her personal taxi, I thought it would save arguments later.”

“Talking of which, I’ve found two driving instructors who do intensive courses, but only one of them appears to have any vacancies.”

“Then could you ring and book it, as soon as possible but preferably not until next week?”

Alison arrived from school about ten minutes later and just flung herself at me as she walked in.

“I take it you’re pleased to see me,” I said.

“Nope,” she replied, “it’s a gun in my pocket.”

I laughed; Mum looked scandalised.

“Alison Barker, where did you ever learn a thing like that?”

“In the school playground, Mum,” she answered.

“Hey Pip, do you want to come down into town and look at cars?” I asked.

“Yes, I’ll come, but why do you want me with you?”

“Your brother has this theory that once he’s passed his test, you’ll be considering his car to be your personal taxi,” Mum said, “so you may as well have a say in what he gets.”

“A Porsche,” she said.

“Maybe one day, but I’d rather get some experience first,” I said, “I was thinking one of those hybrid things. Cheaper on fuel.”

“Well, give me ten minutes to get changed and we’ll be off,” she said.

“Don’t you want something to eat first?” Mum asked.

“No, that’s all right,” she replied, “David and I will eat out, he can pay.”

‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘Home sweet home.’

We walked down to Pontefract Road and started looking at cars.

The first garage was Ford. We walked in and a large guy in a Ford uniform threw us out. When I protested that I was looking to buy a car, he told us that they didn’t sell old bangers and to come back when I had some money.

Alison, being Alison walked up to him and pointed at a bright yellow Ford Mustang

“How much is that one?” she asked.

“A lot more than you can afford girlie,” he said.

“Really and how do you know that?” she asked, “how do you know that my brother isn’t a film star who’s just got back from six months in Canada making a TV series for which he was paid a quarter of a million dollars a week? How do you know we don’t have the money?”

By this time she was getting quite shrill and another man, this one in a suit came out of a back office.

“What’s going on out here, Robert?” he asked.

“Just getting rid of these two time-wasting kids,” he said.

“Well, try not to make so much noise about it,” the man said and turned to return to his office. Then he turned back and looked at us.

“Wait a minute,” he said, “aren’t you David J Barker, that local kid who makes films?” he asked.

“And a TV series in Canada,” Alison replied, looking straight at the one called Robert, a smirk on her lips.

He had the good grace to blush.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding here,” the manager said.

“No misunderstanding,” I said, “Robert here saw that two teenagers had walked in and thought, well, I don’t know what he thought, or even if he’s capable of it. Probably either just here for a lark or here to see what they could steal and he acted on that assumption.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he replied, “but if we can put that to one side, I’m sure we can do you a good deal.”

I looked at him.

“Sorry, not interested,” I said, “looks like Bobby here has lost you a customer.”

And then we walked out. Once we were outside we looked at each other and started laughing.

That particular section of Pontefract Road, between the end of the main street of Glasshoughton and the motorway, was car sales central in Castleford. Every new car sales place in town was either on the road or on the Junction 27 shopping park behind it. We got a better reception at the other places, but I’d got my mind set on a hybrid car and none of them had one to offer. The Honda Civic was my sort of baseline idea but there we didn’t even have a Honda place in town.

We finally found what I wanted at Motorpoint, a used Prius Hybrid with low mileage and a good price, only one year old.

I explained to the salesperson that I’d just got my provisional licence and that I was looking for my first car.

“You’ll need to bring a parent with you,” he said, “to sign for the finance.”

“There won’t be any finance,” I replied, “we’ll be paying cash.”

“Seriously?” he asked, “forgive my scepticism, but where does a lad your age get that sort of money?”

“Have you seen Star Academy?” Alison asked him, “or The Lakeland Murders on telly?”

“Yes, both of them,” he answered, “why?”

“Take a close look at my brother, don’t you think he looks kinda familiar?”

He peered across the bonnet of the car and then realisation hit him.

“Oh my god,” he said, “you’re Greg Paradise.”

I didn’t scream, but it was close.

The salesman noticed the look on my face when he said it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought…”

“It’s OK,” Alison said, “he gets grumpy when people use that name. In a second he’ll tell you no, he’s not Greg, he’s just an actor who plays him.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, “then again, I apologise.”

“Not necessary,” I said, “realistically it’s something that I’m going to have to get used to.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” I said, “particularly since we start production on Star Academy 2 in a couple of months.”

“There’s going to be another film?” he asked, “when will that be out?”

“Probably around Easter next year,” I replied, “or a bit later, maybe the summer holidays.”

“I’ll have to make sure I take the kids to that,” he said.

“How many have you got?” I asked.

“Two,” he said, “Charlie and Emma.”

“How old?”

“Ten and eight,” he replied, “both of them nuts about Greg.”

“Have you got some of my cards in your bag?” I asked Alison.

“Of course, I always have,” she said.

“Give me a couple,” I said.

She handed me two of my Star Academy picture cards.

“Could I borrow a pen?” I asked, “what are their names?”

“Paul and Sarah,” he said, then he fished in his jacket pocket and handed me a pen. I quickly inscribed the two cards to his two children and handed them to him.

“Here you go,” I told him, “that should get you some daddy cred.”

“Thank you,” he said, “are you dashing off anywhere?”

“No,” I replied, “why?”

“Let me go and have a word with my manager, see where we can go on price on this.”

“OK,” I replied, “thank you.”

He disappeared into the back and we sat for five minutes waiting before he came back with another man, this one probably in his sixties, fat bald and looking sour.

I stood up as he approached and was introduced as Steve Smith.

“Mr Barker, I believe you’re interested in a Prius,” he said.

“No,” I replied, turning and pointing at the one I’d picked, “I’m interested in that one.”

“Why that one in particular?” he asked.

“I like the colour,” I replied.

“How long ago did you pass your test?” he asked.

“I haven’t even had a lesson yet,” I replied, “but I want to learn and take my test in the car I’ll be driving afterwards.”

“That’s good in principle,” he answered, “but, all hybrids are automatic, if you do that and later want to drive a car with a manual gearbox, you’d have to retake your test in a manual car.”

“So I need to get a different car to learn in,” I said.

“You don’t have to,” he replied, “but that would be my advice. That way by taking your test in a manual car you can drive either, in an automatic you’d be limited only to those.”

I considered that for a moment.

“So what I really, truly need to do then is get my test passed and then go for the hybrid?”

“That would be my advice,” he said, “I’d also advise that you go for a small car to learn in, they’re more manoeuvrable and easier to park.”

“All right, thanks,” I said, “looks like we need to look again, Alison.”

“Well, why don’t you take a little time to think about it and come back, I think we can find you a deal,” he said.

I stood up and we shook hands all round before we left, walked round to the Junction 32 shopping village and had a hot chocolate in Thornton’s.

We’d been there for about five minutes when she took a sip of her mug of chocolate, put it down on its saucer and looked at me, eye to eye.

“How are you doing, David?” she asked.

“I’m doing fine,” I said.

She held my gaze with her own.

“So you’re over what happened to Sandy?” she said, “you’re over what Cal did last September?”

“No,” I agreed, “I’m not over Sandy’s death. She’s the only girlfriend I ever had who I can honestly say was devoted to me and to whom I was devoted. On the subject of Cal, the jury is considering its verdict. You saw at Christmas that I can treat her decently, I can at least stand being in the same room as her if she comes home for a weekend, but apart from that, what she has done will always hurt.”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about Sandy,” she said, “that’s done and it has to stay done. But you can do something about Cal.”

“I know she’s your friend and you’d really like us to be back together,” I said, “but I’m not certain that I could.”

“Are you certain that you couldn’t?” she asked, “And I’m not asking because she’s my friend, or because I might want a particular outcome, I’m asking because you’re my brother. You need to sit down with her, talk it out and come to some final conclusion. Whatever that conclusion is.”

“So what are you suggesting?” I asked.

“Why don’t you take her out to dinner this weekend, make it very clear that it’s to talk and clear the air, not to get back together and decide what the pair of you want to do about the situation you find yourselves in.”

I picked my mug up, took a sip then made a face when I realised that the chocolate had gone cold.

“All right, I’ll ring her and ask her,” I said.

“Maybe it would be better to wait,” she said, “it will be much easier to just say no on the phone than face to face.”

“All right, I’ll go round on Friday after she gets home and arrange it for Saturday.”

I took the mugs back to the counter and we set off for home, where I had a quiet night in and spent some time on the phone catching up with the gang. For once nobody, not even Geoff Merkin, who could probably give my brother a run for his money as chairman of the girlfriend of the month club, had changed girlfriends and we arranged for all of us to meet up, or at least those of us who could make it and wanted to, the following evening for the weekly teen dance at our local dance hall, the Kiosk.

Weather-wise, Frank Sinatra was wrong about Thursday, it was not such a lovely day, it rained. It was raining when I woke up and it was still raining when I set off to walk into town to meet up with the gang. So much so that my mother took pity on me and drove me down, even going so far as to tell me to ring her when I was ready to come home and she’d come down and pick me up.

I was greeted by a familiar voice from behind the counter as I walked into the Blue Cup Café on Sagar Street.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns,” he said, “sorry, I’m out of fatted calf, but I could do you a nice burger.”

“No thanks, I already ate,” I said, “hope you and the family are doing well.”

“We’re doing fine,” he said, “you?”

“A rocky few months, but I’m surviving.”

The rest of the gang all started chatting then, I told them about six months in Canada, which had Keith interested since his family was Canadian and he’d been born out there. And then the part I was dreading started, all the expressions of sorrow and sympathy over Sandy. I managed to hold myself together and ultimately, it was Kathy that came to my rescue.

“Guys let’s give the poor boy a break eh?” she said, “you can see that just thinking about it upsets him, we’ve all said how sorry we are for what happened and maybe one day he’ll tell us more about it, but for now let’s leave it. Anybody know who tonight’s band are?”

“Lee Castle and the Barons,” Keith said, “they’re good.”

They were, they performed at the Kiosk three or four times a year and it was always a great night. They did almost exclusively sixties covers and a few songs of their own, plus a bit of comedy in between. With them on stage, a tailor’s dummy would have a good time.

We all finished our coffees and set off up the road to the Kiosk, where we’d managed to miss the early queue and walked straight in, paid our money at the top of the stairs and joined virtually the entire teenage population of Castleford. Or at least that proportion aged between fourteen and eighteen.

Because I was the only one of us there alone, the girls all made sure that I got plenty of practice at dancing. I even caught a few of the unattached girls in the room eyeing me up from time to time.

“You know,” Mike whispered in my ear, “you could take your pick in here if you wanted to. It would be eyes down, look in for a full house.”

“I’m not looking at the moment, maybe in a while,” I said.

“Too soon?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “I have to see a counsellor for the grief. You remember Kostas from Vancouver, the one who is now married to Sandy’s mother?”

“Yes, the Greek doctor.”

“Well, he’s been helping me talk through it and he’s written to my GP to ask him to refer me to a counsellor over here.”

“It’s good that you’re getting help,” he said, “you know that if there’s anything any of us can do, you only have to ask.”

“Yes. I do,” I said, “thanks. To all of you.”

There were murmurs of support from around the table.

At half-past ten I called it a night, said goodnight to everybody, got hugs from the girls and set off for home and bed.

I woke up early on Friday morning and, on looking at my naked form in the bathroom mirror, decided that I was getting pudgy and made a conscious decision to do more exercise. I abandoned my thoughts of a shower, went back to my room and changed into my PE gear and trainers. I put my house key into the fob pocket in my shorts and set off out of the house and down the street. I set an easy pace and did a couple of miles, arriving back at the house nearly twenty minutes later and breathing heavily.

I found my sister in the kitchen getting her breakfast.

“You stink,” she said, wrinkling her nose to punctuate the comment.

“I’ve been out for a run, I’m getting podgy.”

“OK, so you’re fat and you stink.”

“I love you too,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“No!” she exclaimed, “go and get a shower, you really, really stink.”

I headed off upstairs and did as I was told, put my running clothes in the laundry basket that mum kept in the bathroom, then got dressed in my usual jeans and a polo shirt.

Alison was still in the kitchen and offered me a bacon sandwich, which I accepted and devoured.

“What are you planning on doing today?” she asked.

“Hanging around the house, make a few phone calls. I might call in at school if I can persuade someone to drive me.”

“You could always ask Aunt Mary.”

“I don’t want to bother her,” I said, “and besides won’t she be going to Manchester?”

“Why?” she asked, “Cal has her own car now.”

‘Shit,’ I thought, ‘I’m really out of touch.’

“Since when?” I asked.

“About a month ago,” she said.

“Good,” I said, “what did she get?

“A Citroen C2,” she said, “it’s small and cheap to run.”

“Well then if Mum or Dad can’t do it, I’ll ask Aunt Mary,” I said, “I should go round there and say hello anyway.”

First I rang the college and arranged to go in and see them at one o’clock.

That was arranged and it was time to find a lift.

Mum and Dad were both tied up all day, so I had to go round to next door and see Aunt Mary. Which wasn’t a hardship.

I knocked on the back door and waited until she opened it.

She opened it and immediately got a surprised look on her face.

“David,” she said, “come on in. Since when did you knock and wait at my door.”

“Since I stopped being your daughter’s best friend,” I replied, “I need to ask you a favour, do you have a couple of hours to spare this afternoon?”

“What for?” she asked.

“I need to go in and see the teachers at college, school or whatever it’s calling itself this week.

Mum and Dad are tied up, so I need a lift, but it’s all right if you’re busy I can get a taxi.”

“Of course I will,” she said, “what time?”

“I need to be there for one.”

“Then come round here at twelve-thirty and we’ll go.”

“Thanks,” I said, “I know you must be busy getting ready for the weekend and I don’t want to distract you from that.”

“Are you and she going to have that talk this weekend?” she asked.

“I hope so,” I said, “perhaps we can get back to being friends again.”

“Well, Christmas was a good start on that, don’t you think?”

“A start yes, anyway, I’d better let you get on, I’ll see you later.”

“She’s really looking forward to seeing you again, David,” she said, “she’s excited and really wants to straighten things out between you.”

I stood up to leave and I thought she looked like she wanted to say something wise.

“What?” I asked.

She looked puzzled.

“You looked like you were going to say something else,” I added.

“No,” she said, “no, nothing else.”

I nodded my head and left.

My hour with the teachers at school was productive and they asked me if I was going to come back for the last few weeks of the summer term.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I like the way I’m working, I have the flexibility to do my work as and when I want.”

They expressed a concern that they had no way of telling whether what I did was actually my own work, which upset me a bit. I suggested that they speak to Mr James at my high school as to whether there had been any suspicion of my work not being my own and if they weren’t happy then fine, we could end the arrangement and I’d enrol with some correspondence courses for the following year. They backed down. I knew it wasn’t money, the capitation they got for me wouldn’t even buy the textbooks for the courses I was doing, I think it was the prestige of being able to list a film star among their former students.

I said goodbye and promised to have all my work in by the end of term and to contact them for the following year’s syllabus by the end of August, then walked back outside to find Mary.

“Are you and Cal really going to sit down and talk this weekend?” she asked me.

“If she wants to,” I said, “there’s no way I can force her into it.”

“Oh, she wants to,” she said, “I think she wants that more than just about anything else in life at the moment.”

Just as we pulled into her driveway her phone chirped.

“That’ll be her telling me she’s on her way,” she said.

Once the ignition was off she checked it and saw that she was right.

“She’ll be home in about an hour and a half,” she said, as we climbed out of the car.

 

Chapter 2.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working on programming examples until I heard my sister slammed the front door behind her as she got home from school just after four.

I could tell it was her by the way she came bounding up the stairs.

My door was open, so she walked into my room.

“Hey bro,” she said, with a smile.

“Hey Pip,” I replied, “how was school?”

“Oh, just normal,” she said, “we’re sort of winding down towards the summer holidays.”

“Well, next year will be hectic, with GCSEs and all that.”

“I’ve already taken six,” she said, proudly.

“That’s great and how do you think you’ve done?”

“Oh, the two Englishes I’ve definitely passed, History, Geography and French probably and I’m not too sure about Art. But whatever I do pass, gives me more time next year to concentrate on what I really do want to get.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Chemistry, Physics, Biology, Human Biology and Maths.”      

“Still intent on medical school?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said.

“That’s good, just don’t let your ambition lead your life. Remember to live as well.”

“Talking of people who let their ambitions lead their lives,” she said, “you’re still planning to take her out to talk to her this weekend right?”

“If she wants to talk to me, I will,” I agreed, “but I’m not going to make the first move.”

“Well, if she does, promise me you’ll talk.”

“All right,” I said, “I promise I’ll talk to her if she asks for it.”

She kissed my cheek and left, calling out, “Thanks bro,” as she did.

I pressed the F5 key to compile and run my programme, then started going through the error messages.

It’s a strange thing about programming errors, you can get a long list of error messages when you compile it but when you work out what went wrong, it can often be one or two very minor errors, that cause others down the line. Fix the cause and you can fix a lot of errors at once. I’d just found the last of them when Alison called up the stairs, “Cal’s home.”

I acknowledged the fact and went back to my corrections, made the last one and hit F5 again. No error messages.

Satisfied with my progress I went downstairs and poured myself a mug of coffee, took it into the living room and used the remote to turn on the TV.

Five o’clock on Friday afternoon was never the best time to watch British TV unless you're about eleven years old. I wasn’t, so I turned it off and decided to walk around next door and say hello to Cal.

As I stepped out of the front door, I stopped. Looking over at the Warner house, I saw Cal’s Citroen on the driveway and a tall blond guy about our age taking two bags out of the boot. I quickly stepped back into the house and closed the door. It looked decidedly like Cal and I no longer had anything to talk about.

Mum arrived about fifteen minutes later and I asked her what time we were eating.

“About seven,” she said, “we’re eating next door. It will give you a chance to talk to Cal.”

“I don’t think there’s a need anymore,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Something to do with the nearly six-foot blond guy she brought home with her,” I said, “I think the Cal and David ship has sailed.”

“That can’t be right,” she said, “she knew you were coming home and wanted to talk this weekend.”

I held my hand up to stop her.

“Mum, it’s all right,” I said, “she’s entitled to have another boyfriend if that’s what she wants, I had Sandy, I was seeing a girl for a while three weeks ago. We haven’t been together since last September. I got the impression at Christmas that she wanted to talk things out and see what, if anything, we could salvage of our relationship. I obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion. It’s no big deal. As I said, I think the need for us to talk has been removed. I’m only surprised that her mother never mentioned her bringing her boyfriend home with her when she took me to college this afternoon.”

“So you’ll be coming round to dinner with us then?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, “I don’t think that would be fair on him, whatever his name is.”

“Peter,” Mum said.

“So you knew about him?” I asked, “And didn’t think to mention it?”

She didn’t answer, nor did she look me in the eye.

“Thanks, Mum,” I said, “I’m going to go and eat out. I’ll see you at bedtime.”

I marched upstairs, got a jacket suitable for the warm evening and walked out through the front door headed into town.

I walked up to the top of Carlton Street at the top of which was something I had really missed for the past six months, the Acme fish and chip shop and its upstairs sit-down café. OK, so it was Formica-topped tables and plastic chairs, but the food was good. I ordered the special, Fish, chips and mushy peas, tea and bread and butter. Although I asked for a diet Pepsi instead of the tea.

Once I’d finished and paid it was still early, so I took a stroll round to the club where there was usually entertainment on weekend nights and Sunday afternoons. The attraction that night was a band the Spectres, who did a lot of covers of Phil Spector songs.

We all liked the club, it had one great thing going for it, Walt, the steward. He didn’t pay much regard to most of the licensing laws and so long as you looked a reasonable facsimile of over eighteen, he’d serve you alcohol, or at least beer.

I had nothing particularly against beer, so I never drank a lot, but for some reason, I felt like having a few that night.

I was standing at the bar, half-way through my third pint, admittedly, the most I’d ever drunk and feeling it when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“David, you need to come home,” a soft voice said.

“I don’t want to,” I said, “I’d much rather stay here.”

“No, everybody is worried about you,” she said, “come on, leave that and let’s go home.”

I picked up the pint and took a mouthful, swallowed it and turned back to her.

“No thanks, Aunt Mary,” I said, “my new friend here and I are just getting to know each other.”

“She’s hurt you again, hasn’t she?” she said.

I looked at her and took another mouthful.

“Look, if you’re going to stay here, let’s go find a couple of seats somewhere and I’ll stay with you, then when you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”

We found a table in the lounge and at least I was sitting down.

“You never mentioned she was bringing her boyfriend home this weekend,” I said.

“I didn’t know,” she said, “she says that she forgot that it was this weekend that you were coming home and she wanted me to meet this boy.”

“Do you believe that?” I asked, “or do you think it’s her revenge for Sandy? You know, you had a girlfriend, so I can have a boyfriend?”

“Whatever it is,” she said, “I don’t think it was vindictive. She was genuinely talking last week of a new start with you, becoming friends again and seeing if the pair of you could develop something deeper again.”

“Which is the place I’d come to,” I said, “but, she’s decided to go in a different direction, so, I’ll wish them well and quietly bow out. But I think I’ll be spending weekends away until it’s time to go down to Pinewood.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, “you and her could still be friends.”

“Mary,” I asked, “how long have you known about him?”

“Since two weeks ago, she told me she’d met this boy and she wanted me to meet him.”

I don’t think the fact that I’d dropped the Aunt escaped her.

“And yet you didn’t tell me that she had a boyfriend this afternoon. Don’t you think that would have been helpful?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” she said, “but she wasn’t bringing him as far as I knew and she wanted to tell you everything herself when you spoke.”

“I suppose that was reasonable,” I said, before finishing my pint, “I suppose I’d better go home then.”

“I’ll ring them and tell them we’re on our way,” she said.

I reached out and placed my hand on top of hers on the table.

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?”

“For caring,” I added, “just one other thing.”

“What?”

“When you call home, tell them that I won’t be coming in until I see Cal walk into your house.”

“What if she’s not at yours?” she asked.

“I know Cal,” I replied, “give them the message.”

She called home and told them that she had me with her, that we were talking and that we’d be home soon.

“And Pat,” she added, “tell Cal to go home.”

She listened for a few seconds; I couldn’t tell what Mum was saying but her voice must have gone an octave higher.

“No Pat, he does not want to talk to her right now and he has told me, quite firmly that he won’t enter the house until he sees her in ours.”

Once again, I could hear Mum’s voice, but not make out the words. “She wants to speak to you,” Pat said, holding her phone out to me.

I took it, put it to my ear and spoke.

“Yes, Mum,” I said, sadly, I was pretty sure that, even after three pints, I knew what was coming next.

I was right.

“Now, David, why don’t you come home and talk to Cal like a responsible adult?” she asked, that bit was new, it used to be ‘stop acting like a petulant child.’

“Mum, for the past few weeks, I’ve been told ‘Cal is really looking forward to you coming home David, she’s very excited and wants to sit down with you and talk things out and see if you can rescue your relationship, be friends again and maybe even get back to how you were before. It was important to her.’ Yes, so important that, apparently, she completely forgot I would be home this weekend and decided to bring her boyfriend with her. No, Mum. I’ll talk to her, but it will be in my time and on my terms and if she can’t accept that, then sorry, I wish the pair of them every happiness, but no thanks.”

“David James Barker, you will come home this minute,” she said, getting angry.

“Mum,” I replied, “Very well, I will. I’ll come home, go upstairs to my bedroom, pack my things and move out. If you can’t accept my decision then I refuse to live with you anymore.”

“Young man while you live under my roof, you will live by my rules.”

“Then I will take the alternative option. I’m going to ask Aunt Pat to drop me off at the Tulip hotel. I’ll book in there until it’s time for me to go to London for the rehearsals, then get a flat down there and at least I’ll be allowed to make my own decisions.”

I ended the call and the phone immediately rang again.

“Please don’t answer that if it’s my mother,” I said, “would you run me up to the Tulip? I can get a taxi if you’d rather not.”

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, “I think Cal will be devastated if she thinks she’s broken up your family.”

“Tell her she hasn’t, my mother has.”

“Perhaps it’s better if I don’t take you,” she said, “why don’t I drop you off at the station, you can get a train to Glasshoughton or anywhere else you like and I can tell them in all honesty that I don’t know where you went, I left you at the station.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to go for a walk first, I’m not sure any hotel will take me if I appear a little the worse for drink.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she said, “but promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll ring me every day, so I can tell the rest of your family that you’re doing OK and you’re safe.”

“All right and tell my sister I’ll call her regularly.”

“I will, take care of yourself,” she said.

“I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to, nobody else will.”

We walked out of the club together, we hugged, she got into her car and I set off into town.

I was walking past the Parish Church on my way to the bus station, I’d decided I needed to go to our one and only all-night supermarket and get some clean clothes for morning and some bathroom supplies when I ran into Kathy and Dave just going home to her house. I apologised half-heartedly for walking into him then realised who it was.

“Sorry, mate,” I said, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No worries,” he replied, “what are you doing down here on a Friday night.”

“Just a problem at home,” I said.

“Cal not come home?” Kathy asked.

“Oh, she’s home,” I said, “for the past three weeks I’ve heard nothing but how much she’s looking forward to me coming home and us sitting down and seeing if we can sort ourselves out. How excited she’s getting. Now apparently, she says she was so excited by it all, that she forgot that I was coming home this week, even though I know for a fact that both our mothers told her that I was back, that she completely forgot about it and brought her boyfriend with her. My mother thinks I’m being unreasonable in refusing to talk to her so I’ve threatened to just move out. Mum pulled the while you’re living in my house, routine. So I told her fine, I’m seventeen, I’m old enough to move out so I will. I’m just off to ASDA to get some things, then I’ll book into the Tulip in Glasshoughton.”

“You won’t,” Kathy said, “you’ll come home with me, I’m sure Mum and Dad will be happy for you to crash at ours for a few days while things get sorted.”

“I’ll still need to go to Asda,” I said.

“Do it tomorrow morning,” she said, “let’s just get you home for now.”

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?” I asked.

“Have they ever minded when you’ve stayed after you and the gang have been out dancing?”

“No,” I said, “they’ve always made me welcome.”

“Then come on,” she said and set off in the direction that I’d just come from.

I followed them a couple of paces behind, listening to the inane drivel that courting couples are famous for. I knew about it; Sandy and I were the same just as Cal and I had once been.

We walked into the Kearford’s living room and Norah, her mother greeted me.

“Hello, David, love, welcome home,” she said, “we don’t usually see you walking in with Kathleen and David, usually it’s Mike and the rest of you reprobates.”

“Mum, David needs somewhere to crash for a couple of days, can he use the spare bedroom.”

“Of course he can,” she said, “have you eaten.”

This was a record, normally the first thing you were asked on entering the Kearford household was “have you eaten?”

“Yes, thanks,” I said, “I had fish and chips about three hours ago.”

“How about a nice cheese sandwich then,” she said, “I know you like cheese.”

I knew better than to say no, so I nodded enthusiastically.

“That would be nice.”

Kathy smirked at me. I smiled in retaliation.

A few minutes after ten Mike and Keith showed up, looked at me and asked what I was doing there.

Kathy informed him that I was temporarily homeless and crashing in the spare bedroom.

“Temporarily homeless?” he asked.

“Another hiccough in the ever-changing David and Cal saga.”

“Somebody should write a book,” Keith said.

“Maybe when I’m older I will,” I said, laughing.

Keith left and everybody else apart from Mike went to bed.

“What’s she done now?” he asked.

I told him what had happened and he looked at me sadly.

“Do you ever get to thinking you should just forget her?” he said.

“All the time,” I said, “the tragedy is I don’t think she’s ever deliberately set out to hurt me, she just acts on impulse and the impulse usually turns out to be wrong. Then I end up hurt. The first day I met her, we were five and I broke my arm falling out of a tree trying to rescue her teddy.”

“Not the best start to one of the world’s great love stories,” he said.

“No,” I agreed, “I think every time I’ve ever ended up in the hospital, it’s been as either a direct or indirect result of something Cal has done or asked me to do.”

“That sounds like, you’re much better off without her?” he said.

“It does, doesn’t it?” I mused, “but then, why does it feel like there’s a huge hole in my life when she’s not there?”

“So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a few weeks before I go to London,” I replied, “so I have two choices really. I can’t park myself on your parents for that long, so I either go home or I do like I said, go home, pack my bags and move to a hotel until it’s time. Maybe I’ll find a place down there so I’m completely out of here.”

“That’s a big step,” he said.

“Mike,” I replied, “I don’t want to sound like I’m boasting but I’ve run my own life for the past six months, albeit with help from Sandy and her mother.”

“Yeah,” he said, “it was tragic what happened to Sandy, she seemed to be a really nice person from what I heard.”

“Well, at least the guys that did it are now charged with Murder,” I said, “which I suppose is some sort of justice. However, during that time I did earn over four and a half million pounds. I think I’ll manage, but I’d still rather Sandy was still here.”

“Oh, you know she’ll always be there in your heart,” he said, took a deep breath and looked at me, “wait, you earned how much?”

“It was six million US dollars, which translates to something like four point six million in sterling.”

“I’m going after the wrong career,” he said, “and you’re still going to go to Uni and study computers? Why?

“Because this may not last,” I said, “I want something I can fall back on.”

“I don’t want to pry, but how much did you make from the first film?”

“Fourteen million at the last count,” I said.

“So in two years, you’ve made nearly twenty million quid?”

“Something like that, yes,” I agreed.

“Holy fucking Christ,” he said, “that’s insane. You must be the richest person in town.”

“No, I think that’s Paul Caddick,” I said.

“Nah, he moved to Knottingley.”

“Pedantic bugger,” I said.

“I get that from you,” he said, “the amazing thing is it all springs from Tom forcing you to play Shylock.”

“Yes and then inviting Sam to come and see me.”

“And it all ballooned from there?” he asked.

“Yes, before I knew where I was, I was doing screen tests, then I was off to LA to see Disney and the rest has been a bit of a roller coaster.”

“It certainly has,” he said, “do you think there’s any chance of it settling down any time soon?”

“I thought it was,” I said, “Sandy was a shock and a tragedy, but I know that eventually, I’ll get over it. I’m not saying I’ll forget her, or ever stop loving her, but I’m going to be seeing a counsellor. That’s a thought. I’ll be down in London. I’ll give Sarah Green a ring tomorrow, see what I have to do to get referred to her.”

“Sarah Green?” he asked.

“She’s a psychologist in London, her daughter’s the secretary of my fan club.”

“You have a fan club?” he asked.

“Yes, Greg’s Girls,” I replied, “ask Kathy, she’s a member.”

“I never knew.”

“There are probably others, but that’s the official one. They all get a Christmas card from me, a quarterly newsletter and next year, there’ll be a prize draw they can all enter.”

“What will be the prize?” he asked.

“An all-expenses paid trip for the winner and up to four family members to attend the world premiere of the new film, wherever that may be.”

“Nice,” he said, “I’ll try and persuade Kathy to enter and then hope I’m one of her four.”

“If you want to come you can anyway.”

“Thanks,” he said, “you know, thinking about the whole Cal situation, do you think perhaps that she does all this out of jealousy?”

“Jealousy?” I asked, incredulous, “What does she have to be jealous of?”

He chuckled.

“Such sweet innocence,” he said, “David, she has an ambition and she works damned hard to make that ambition come true, she always has, you’ve talked about it in the past. You’ve just stepped into fame and fortune like it was a cowpat in a field and you didn’t notice it.”

“You think that could be it?” I asked.

“I’d stick my neck out and say it’s just about certain.”

“Well, I promise not to chop it off if you’re wrong,” I said, with a laugh.

“Thanks,” he replied, “and I think that’s me off to bed, are you planning on staying up?”

“No,” I said, “I’ll turn in too, I think.”

Between us, we checked that everything was switched off and the door was locked.

“Goodnight,” we wished each other as we separated to go to our rooms.

 

Chapter 3.

I was up the following morning, dressed in the previous day’s clothes when there was a knock on the back door.

Mrs K. went to answer it and when she opened it, I heard Cal’s voice.

“Hi, Mrs. Kearford, is Mike in?”

“Yes, dear,” Mike’s Mum replied, “he’s just having his breakfast, won’t you come in?”

“Thank you,” she replied, “I was hoping he knew where David was?”

I stood to leave the room, but I felt Mike’s hand on my arm stopping me. I looked at him and he shook his head and then he motioned me to sit.

I sat and, a few seconds later Cal walked into the kitchen and stopped.

“David,” she said, almost a moan, “I was so worried.”

“There’s no need for you to worry,” I replied, “for the last six months I’ve run my own life reasonably well with a minimum of outside help and certainly no interference from my mother.”

“I’m sorry she did that yesterday,” she said, “it wasn’t her problem and she interfered.”

“She’s done that all along,” I said, “even that day in Bernie’s office was a result of her interfering and that didn’t come out too well in the end did it. Perhaps if she’d just stood back and let us work it out on our own.”

“It would have taken a long time,” she said.

“But we’d have got there,” I said, “and maybe we wouldn’t be where we are now.”

“Where are we now?” she asked.

“Well, you have a boyfriend and I have no girlfriend, but that’s not your problem,” I said, “but maybe you’d better get back to him before he gets suspicious. This isn’t the place for us to be discussing this subject.”

“Then can we go and find that place?” she asked, “let’s work out just what kind of a relationship we can have in the future.”

I stood up.

“Come on,” I said, a sharp tone in my voice, “let’s go and find somewhere to talk then. Let’s at least get it out of the way. Where are you parked?”

“At the front of the house,” she said.

“I’ll see you out there in a couple of minutes.”

When she left.

“Thanks Mrs K.” I said, “I really appreciate you letting me stay last night.”

“That’s absolutely no problem, David, if you need to, you come back here later.”

“Thank you,” I said, “if I need to I will. I hope I don’t need to, but I will.”

I picked my jacket off the rack near the door and left, walked round to the front of the house and opened the passenger door to Cal’s Citroen.

“All right, where to?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I said, probably more grumpily than I meant to, “I’ve been in Canada for six months.”

“We could go to my house?” she suggested.

“No, on two grounds, firstly your boyfriend’s there, whatever you say, he’s going to be listening outside the door of whatever room we’re in and two, it needs to be a neutral venue.”

“So not your house either then,” she said.

“If you mean my parents’ house then no,” I said, “I’ll only be going there to collect my things.”

“Isn’t that an overreaction?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said, “I’m absolutely fed up with my mother thinking she can run my life for me. I’m getting out come what may.”

“I’m sorry I caused that,” she said, favouring me with a wan smile, “is there anything I can do to make it right?”

“You didn’t do it; it was my mother’s insistence on always being right.”

“Where shall we go then?” she asked.

“How about we go and walk round Fairburn Ings, it’s a nice day and I haven’t been for ages, we can talk as we walk.”

“All right,” I said, “that should be nice.”

We drove out of town across the river and followed the Roman road down to the Allerton Bywater turnoff, turned right and two miles later parked at the side of the lake that had formed when the old mine workings underneath had subsided. Now it was a bird and nature reserve.

We walked into the RSPB centre and I paid the parking fee, then decided, before we set off round the water to have a coffee in the coffee shop.

She insisted that since I’d paid for the parking, she would buy the coffees, so I let her, at worst it was better than fighting over who did pay.

Since we were the only two customers, we took a table as far away from the counter as we could and sat opposite each other across a table for two.

“David,” she began, hesitantly, “I want to apologise, I didn’t forget that you were home this weekend, Peter asked to come with me, he wanted to meet you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He said he wanted to see what the great David Barker was like.”

“Why would he want to know that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “he never said. David let me take you back to Christmas. Or rather when I left Canada and got back home. I’d spent nearly two weeks with you and Sandy and I knew that you were right. For each other and with each other. She completely filled that part in your life, in your heart that I was too involved with wanting to sing to ever be able to take. So, I decided that I should look for somebody else. Somebody, perhaps with ambitions similar to mine. I started dating. Most of them lasted just one date. Although I was accepting of me needing to get back into sexual relations, but I wasn’t having anyone who decided that it had to happen on the first date. Or indeed the second.”

She paused and took a sip of her coffee.

“Peter is the first one to last beyond date number two,” she continued, “but I have so far turned down every suggestion that he’s made to ‘take it to the next level.’ I told him, honestly, that I didn’t feel comfortable with that until I got closure on a previous relationship. Me and you. When he discovered that I was coming home this weekend to see you and discuss what if any future we had, he decided that he was coming too. I tried to dissuade him, but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me that and introduce us?” I asked, “you know I don’t bite.”

“I don’t know,” she said, “I think I thought that it may in some way prejudice our talk.”

“So, what do you want from our talk?” I asked.

“What do you want from it?” she asked, her voice soft and low.

“Me?” I said, “I want to know where we stand in relationship to one another. Are we going to be friends, best friends, lovers, or do we just say it was great but it’s never going to work out so let’s just wish each other every happiness and say goodbye?”

“Which is your preferred option?” she asked.

“I think that’s a question for later, for now we need to explore what we have, get what tore us apart out in the open and see what the options are.”

“What’s your take on it all?” she asked.

“Well,” I said, “purely from my point of view, the biggest problem between us comes from your impulsiveness. You do things without thinking them through, you’re so concentrated on your musical ambitions that everything else just gets thrust aside.

“I don’t think I could argue with that,” she said.

“But have you done anything about it?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I’ve been seeing a therapist since last September. We’re not there yet, but we’re making progress.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re getting help.”

“Are there any other issues from your point of view?”

“The whole thing in Manchester last September.”

“I think that again was my single mindedness. I’d decided that I wanted to be one of the ‘in-crowd’ and nothing was going to interfere with that.”

She paused for another sip of coffee and she made a face at it.

“It’s gone cold.”

“I’ll get us another,” I said and took the two mugs back to the counter.

As well as the coffees I got us two giant choc chip cookies, paid and took them back to the table on a tray.

“Thanks,” she said as I sat down again.

“So, in Manchester, you decided that I could be sacrificed to that ambition,” I said.

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” she said.

“If you know another, I’d be interested to know what it is?”

She was silent for a full minute before she looked at me with tear laden eyes.

“I’m sorry, David,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “I didn’t think of it like that at the time, but yes, you’re right that was effectively exactly what I did.”

I reached over and used my thumb to wipe away the large tears that were running down her cheeks.

“It’s gone Cal, “I said softly, “it’s in the past, leave it there.”

“Is that where we are, David?” she asked, “In the past?”

“Where do you want us to be?” I asked.

“You want me to be honest?” she replied.

“Anything else would be unacceptable.”

“I have just gone through the worst nine months of my life,” she said, “separated from the boy I loved, but with him hating me.”

I reached over and placed a finger on her lips, which she promptly kissed.

“I never hated you, Cal,” I assured her, “I may not have liked you, but I never hated you.”

“And then I came to Canada for Christmas,” she said, “thank you for allowing that, by the way.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” I answered, “that was all Sandy.”

“Well, whoever, thank you, I saw how happy that the two of you were and I think I was a little jealous. You know? Thinking that it should have been me that was so happy, but that I’d messed it up.”

“Since we’re being honest, it was you that messed it up.”

“Yes, I know that,” she said, sounding a little tetchy.

“So where does it leave us, Cal?” I asked, “What is it that you want?”

“I don’t really know, where it leaves us,” she said, “the best analogy I can come up with is this. We’re sat here, in this café with this table dividing us. What I’ve done in the past is the table. What do I want? I want my David back. But I threw him away. And I don’t know how to make that right.”

“The short answer to that is, you can’t,” I said, “there’s no way that you could make what you did right. You could only ever make amends.”

“Then how do I make amends?” she asked.

“I think that that is something that you need to work out for yourself,” I answered, “and I don’t think there’s an easy answer. But, for now, tell me about Peter.”

“What do you want to know about him?” she asked.

“Everything you want to tell me,” I replied.

She paused for a moment to take a drink.

“Well,” she said, “his name is Peter Harrison, he’s a year ahead of me at school.”

“So he’s a musician?” I asked.

“Yes, he plays Trumpet and piano. Please, no blowjob jokes.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, “carry on.”

“He’s a local Manchester lad, so he doesn’t live in at school,” she continued, “his parents are doctors and he has two sisters.”

“And he insisted on coming with you this weekend,” I said, “is this his first visit?”

She shook her head.

“No and to head off your next question, he’s sleeping in the guest bedroom and that’s where he slept last time.”

“Always?” I asked.

“David, despite his pushing for it, we haven’t had sex. Ever. I told him there was no chance until you and I had talked and he accepted that.”

“So, basically he’s plan B,” I said, “I’m plan A and if that doesn’t work out, you’ll go back home and have your wicked way with Peter.”

“No, it’s not like that,” she said.

“Cal, that’s what it looks like from where I stand and I suspect that’s what it looks like to him. That’s why he insisted on coming with you this weekend.”

“So he could pick up the pieces if you just told me to get lost,” she said.

“Or could that just be pick up a piece, if I told you to get lost?”

“You think he’d do that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I’ve never met him, so I couldn’t even begin to form an opinion. I’m only looking at it from a male perspective. Everybody knows that around a pretty girl, all our blood diverts from the top brain to the lower one.”

“You think that he might just take off after he gets what he wants?” she asked.

“Well, given that you go to the same school it would be difficult for him to avoid you, so probably not, but it’s a possibility,” I said, “at the moment though, he’s in the driving seat.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Cal, back in September, you cheated on me with that other girl’s boyfriend,” I said, “what was the result of that?”

“You cut me off from you, refused to talk to me, see me, even be in the same place as me,” she replied.

“And why did I do that?”

“Because I cheated,” she said, “because you hate the concept of cheating and it’s something you’d never do.”

“That’s right and it’s something I would never get involved with someone else doing. So the bottom line is, yes, we can be friends again Cal, but I think that’s all we can ever be. Anything else would be cheating and I won’t cheat.”

Mentally the last three words were in Times New Roman 32-point Bold.

“So, if I want a chance at anything other than just being friends.”

“You have to be single, no boyfriend, no barriers.”

Before she could answer me, her phone rang.

She pulled it out of her back pocket looked at the screen and pressed the accept call button.

“Hi Mum,” she said.

I could hear a female voice at the other end but couldn’t make out what it was saying, but from her greeting I knew who it was.

“He what?” she spat into the phone.

After another pause she spoke again.

“All right, Mum,” she said, “thanks for letting me know.”

She hung up and looked at me.

“It seems that Peter put a GPS tracker in my car and knows where we are,” she said, “he asked her to bring him over, but she refused, so he’s on his way here in a taxi. We need to get out of here.”

She started to stand and I caught her wrist.

“No,” I said, “if we leave he still has the GPS tracker, he’d just follow us to wherever we went. We may as well stay here and wait.”

“But what if he…” she began.

“What if he what, gets violent?” I asked, “Then I’ll take steps to protect myself.”

“Only yourself?” she asked.

“Well, he’s your boyfriend, I wouldn’t think he’d want to jeopardise that and I wouldn’t be able to protect you in any way if I hadn’t protected myself first.”

“I suppose you have a point there.”

We never got any further because at that moment the café door flung open and the tall blond guy that I’d seen taking the bags out of Cal’s car strode in.

I stood up and walked towards him, my hand held out.

“Hi,” I greeted him, “you must be Peter, I’m David. We were just talking about you.”

He ignored me, walked straight past me and up to the table where he stopped across from Cal.

“Come on, we’re going,” he snapped.

I decided that I’d stand back and see where this headed and only step in if it started to look risky.

Cal just sat there and peered at him over the top of her coffee mug.

“What?” she spat.

“I said, come on, we’re going,” he repeated, “are you deaf. You’ve spent enough time with that.”

He almost spat out ‘that’ while glaring at me.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, very slowly and deliberately, “just who the hell do you think you are.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” he said, “I’m the guy who’s going to be in your bed tonight and you’ll do as I say.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice calm and even, “let’s take those points one at a time. Point One.”

She raised the index finger of her right hand and closes her left around it.

“Point One, you’re my boyfriend, yes, that one I have to concede. Point Two.”

She raised the next finger and wrapped her left fingers around that one.

“Point Two, you’re the guy who’s going to be in my bed tonight. Well, I suppose that’s possible, but then where would I sleep?”

“But you said that after you spoke to him, we’d take it to the next level.”

“Wrong,” she said, “I said that there was no chance of that happening before I’d had chance to work things out with David. Now Point Three. Something we were in the process of doing when you interrupted us.”

A third finger joined the other two.

“Point Three, I’ll do as you say. Really?” She asked, “You should talk to David about how well that works.”

I remained silent, just standing there with an amused look.

“You promised,” he whined.

“No, I said not before, I did not promise after,” she replied, “and given that you’ve now interrupted us and started throwing orders about, I’m pretty sure we can change that not before to not in this lifetime.”

He turned and stomped off towards the door.

“Well,” he shouted as he turned at the door, “you can forget about me, you and I are finished.”

As he disappeared from sight, I turned to Cal.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I think I already knew in my heart that he and I were going nowhere. And it has an advantage too.”

“What might that be?” I asked, already having a good idea of what the answer would be.

“Well, it does get rid of the cheating aspect,” she said.

Yes, I was right.

“Well, that put a bit of a damper on our talk,” I said, “how about we go and have a walk round, see what lovely wildlife we can spot.”

I took the mugs back to the counter, apologised for the drama and we set off out of the centre to walk round the edge of the water.

One of the things I had always loved about Cal is her ability to get real joy out of simple things, like the squeal of delight she let out at the sight of a flash of blue when a Kingfisher dived into the water and came up carrying a small fish.

I don’t know when it happened, but as we reached the end of the main stretch of water, just where the path turns to go down through the woodland, I became aware that we were walking along holding hands.

When she noticed that I’d noticed she stopped and turned to face me.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

“What? Holding your hand?” I asked, “Never.”

She smiled up at me, causing me to notice that I was now actually taller than her.

I didn’t mention it.

We continued on our way round the lake through the woods and back to the centre. When we reached the car, Peter was standing by it.

“What are you doing here?” Cal asked him.

He held up his phone.

“No signal,” he said, “I couldn’t ring for a taxi.

“All right,” she said, “but when we get home you pack your bag and I’ll ask Mum to run you to the station.”

“Cal,” he protested.

“We’re finished Peter, remember, you said it.”

“Yes but,” he began.

“No buts Peter, you said it and to be honest after what you said in there,” she nodded her head towards the centre, “I don’t think I want you even as a friend anymore.”

“So you’re going back to the guy who dumped you, over a silly mistake?” he sneered.

“No,” she replied, “I’m going to try and start again with a man who loved me unreservedly and who I hurt tremendously by cheating on him.”

She looked over the car at me.

“If he’ll give me the chance, I’ll try to make amends. But I am certainly not going to carry on with someone like you who seems to think that he’s entitled to sex just because he takes me out. You know, I’m disappointed. I really thought that you were different.”

She opened the car and told him to get in. He opened the passenger door and pulled the lever that tilted the front seat back forward, then stepped aside gesturing to me to get in.

“No,” Cal said, “you get the back seat, David sits in front with me.”

We spent the fifteen minutes that it took to drive back in silence and at Cal’s house I got out and let Peter out of the back.

The three of us walked in together and Peter immediately went upstairs to his room. Cal and I found her mother in the kitchen.

She looked up as we walked in.

“Did you have your talk?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “but there’s still more to do. We were interrupted.”

“Peter?” she asked.

“Apparently, he believes that taking me out a few times entitles him to have sex with me.”

“So, what happens now?” she asked.

“Peter is upstairs packing his things. Can you run him to the station?”

“Of course, but I meant with you two.”

“We’re going to see what, if anything, of the ‘us’ that was can be resurrected. If not, we’ll try and, at least, be friends.”

“What about you David?” she asked, “what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go next door; pack some clothes and a few things I need and book into a hotel until it’s time to go to London.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4.

“Are you certain about that?”

“Absolutely,” I replied, “I can just picture what will happen if we decide that there’s nothing left of the us that was and we’re just going to be friends, Mum will probably go bananas. I can’t be around that anymore.”

“Then can I make a suggestion?” she said.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“You’re still going to be faced with a situation where you’re over here and Cal is over there, you’d only see each other at weekends and not even every weekend. If you’re going to live in a hotel for the next what, three months? Why not live in one over there where at least you’d be able to see each other regularly.”

Cal’s face lit up at that suggestion.

“That sounds like a good idea and it might stop Mum just dropping in for a chat,” I said, before Cal could say anything.

“Well, if you’re going next door to pack, I’ll come with you,” Cal said, “that way your Mum is less likely to kick off at you and Mum can have Peter at the station before we get back. Are you going to go over there today?”

“No,” I replied, “if it’s all right with you, I’ll book into the Tulip for tonight and beg a lift with you tomorrow.”

“That’s a great idea,” she said.

“Why?” I asked, worried that I might regret the question once I knew the answer.

“It means you can take me out to dinner tonight and we can go dancing afterwards.”

“I’d better make sure I pack my ‘taking a lady out to dinner’ clothes then,” I said.

We walked together round to my parents’ house and Cal let us in. I had my key, but since I no longer felt that it was home, I didn’t want to use it.

Alison was in the living room, reading a book and as soon as she saw me, jumped up and hugged me.

“I was worried about you last night,” she said.

“I was fine,” I replied, “listen, I’m going to pack some things and move to a hotel for a while.”

“David,” she said, “you’ve got Cal with you. Does this mean?”

I interrupted her. “It means that I’ve got Cal with me, we’ve talked but we still have a way to go before we’re in a position to make any announcements. And the main reason I’m moving out is so we can do what we need to do without any interference.”

“What about?” she began.

“Peter?” Cal asked and Alison nodded, “He’s being taken to the station by my Mum, he showed his true colours this morning, I’m well rid of him.”

Alison looked like she wanted to ask for details but didn’t. She knew we’d tell her everything that we wanted her to know.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ll be staying tonight at the Tulip in Glasshoughton, then I’m going to book into somewhere in the Manchester area.”

“But how will we stay in touch,” she asked, “if I don’t know where you are?”

“You can ring me; I can ring you and I promise you I will never block your number.”

“You’ve got to promise me to look after yourself too,” she said, “no skipping meals or anything like that.”

“I’ll even join a gym,” I said.

I disappeared upstairs and started packing things. I filled a suitcase with casual clothes and moved a couple of suits and three formal shirts, with ties into my suit hanger, then packed my laptop, external hard drive and DVD drive into the backpack that I’d bought in Vancouver and carried them all downstairs.

I carried them downstairs to where the two girls were still talking, I assumed from the fact that they went quiet as I opened the living room door that the subject of conversation had been me.

As the three of us carried my bags out to Cal’s car, her Mum pulled out, taking Peter down to the station. As they passed us, he gave us such a look of hatred that, if I ever actually worried about such things, would have had me quaking in my boots.

“Watch out for him back at school,” I told her, “I think he might be out for revenge.”

“There’s not much damage he can do,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“After that incident last September they put the story round school that I’d taken on the whole group of them, regardless of gender. According to them, you’re talking to the school bicycle.”

“Not according to me,” I said, “and I would sincerely hope that, if ever I’m in your school again, I never hear anything like that.”

After we both hugged my sister, we climbed into the car, belted up and Cal started the engine put the car into gear we pulled away from the kerb. Just as we were turning the corner, my Dad’s Jaguar came round with Mum in the passenger seat. She was surprised to see the two of us in Cal’s car, together, but we were on our way somewhere and chose not to stop and explain anything to them. Not that I felt that my mother deserved any explanation in any case.

We drove down to the Tulip Hotel in Glasshoughton and I took my backpack in with us as I went to register, or, rather to check if they had a room.

As we arrived at the counter the check-in person, a young lady by the name of Candy according to her name badge greeted us.

“Yes, sir, how may I help?” she asked as I stood before her.

“I need a room for the night,” I said, “do you have one.”

“We have lots, sir,” she replied, “I think that the question that you wanted to ask was, do we have one free.”

She looked at me again and then at Cal.

“Double room, sir?” she asked.

“No, it’s just me,” I said, “my friend just gave me a lift down.”

“Very well, sir, that will be seventy pounds for the night with breakfast,” I said, “I’ll need a credit card to pay for that.”

I took out my wallet and handed her my Amex Platinum card.

“Is this your card, sir?” she asked, “David James Barker.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, “although it’s a corporate card.”

“Ah,” she said, “that’s fine, I’m sorry but we do have to be careful. It’s issued to the company you work for?”

“Technically, no,” I said.

“Technically, no?”

“It was issued to the company that I own.”

“You own the company?” she said, “what company is that?”

“There are two,” I said, “DJB Enterprises Ltd, that runs my affairs in this country and DJB Enterprises LLC that runs them in America.”

“Oh, come on, you’re pulling my leg aren’t you.”

“No,” I replied, “tell me, did you ever see Space Academy?”

“The film?” she said, “Yes, I saw it when it first came out.”

“What was the name of the actor who played Greg Paradise?” Cal asked her.

“It was David something, he was from here in Cas, wasn’t he?”

“David J Barker,” Cal prompted.

“Yes,” she agreed, “that was it, David J…. Oh, that was you wasn’t it?”

I just nodded solemnly.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you.”

“That’s all right,” I replied, “sometimes I don’t recognise myself.”

“No,” Cal said, “it’s all the make-up he wears.”

“What, you wear make-up?” she asked.

“Only in my professional capacity.”

I filled in the registration form, she ran my card through the machine I punched in my pin and she handed me a key card.

“Room two-one-four, second floor,” she said, “the lifts are just round the corner on the left, we hope you have a pleasant stay. If there’s anything you need just dial nine on your room phone. Breakfast is seven am to ten.”

We went back out to the car and I retrieved my two bags and placed them on the ground behind the car. Cal walked over to me and hugged me, kissing me softly on the cheek.

“Pick you up about six for dinner?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “great, where do you want to go?”

“How about the Chequers at Ledsham?” she suggested, “the food is particularly good there.”

“I’ll ring and book,” I said, “and I’ll see you at six.”

“Six,” she repeated, “downstairs, or shall I come up.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Spoilsport,” she laughed as she climbed into the car. I picked my bags up and headed for the door, turning to wave her off before I went back inside, collected my backpack from the reception counter and headed to the lifts. I realised something, I may or may not like her very much, but she was still the girl I loved more than anybody else in the world.

The room was a good size and comfortable, as well as the bathroom with a walk-in shower and the ‘usual offices’, the bedroom was spacious with a king-sized bed, a sofa, desk, a wall-mounted big screen TV and a refreshment bar with a kettle, coffee and tea-making facilities and fridge underneath. A fairly standard mid-range hotel, but one that appeared to have gone a little bit further than usual to look after the comfort of their guests.

I unpacked my things for the evening and the next morning and left the rest untouched.

There was Rugby on the TV a cup match, Leeds v Huddersfield and I settled down to watch.

It was a bit of a stroll for Leeds and they ran out easy winners 44-6.

At five I turned the TV off and took a shower, dressed in smart casual clothes and at five to six, put on a light jacket and walked down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor to await my date.

It seemed strange to me to think of it as a date, I’m not sure that Cal and I had ever been out on a date before. Just me and her, meeting up and going somewhere by ourselves, culminating in one or other of us dropping the other off at home afterwards, or, in my case at a hotel.

I was actually looking forward to it.

She was on time and, when she entered the foyer, we hugged and walked out to the car.

She was silent all the way to Ledsham and I got the impression that something was troubling her.

As we came to a halt in the pub car park, I undid my seat belt and turned to face her.

“Cal,” I said, “what’s wrong? You’re incredibly quiet, which is not you and your mood seems depressed, you’re certainly not the bubbly girl who left me at the hotel earlier. What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she said sharply.

“Cal,” I said, as gently as I could, “something is troubling you and I really don’t think you’re in the mood for a quiet dinner. Tell me what it is, please.”

“It’s Peter,” she said, “he’s back at school and spreading lies.”

“What sort of lies?” I asked.

“I don’t know the specifics,” she said, “I got a text from Selina Briggs at school to say that he’d been telling tales about his time over here with me and about breaking up with me when he ‘found out about me.’”

“Look, let’s go and eat,” I said, “then we can ring this Selina Briggs and find out what he’s been saying, then tomorrow, perhaps I’ll come into school with you and put the record straight.”

“You’d do that for me? Even after last September,” she said.

“Of course,” I said, “if someone wants to badmouth you because of what you did last September, well, that was true so I wouldn’t have any justification for defending you. But if this idiot’s slagging you off with lies then that needs to be corrected.”

At that, she kissed me for the first time in months. Not the little pecks on the cheek that she’d been giving me, but a full-blooded, lip-locked, open-mouth kiss with her tongue probing my mouth. I let mother nature take control and our tongues battled for a minute or so before we broke.

“Dinner?” I asked.

“Please,” she said, “but can we go inside and get some food first?”

That was the Cal I knew.

We didn’t mention the Peter incident, or indeed the happenings of last September over dinner, but instead caught each other up on the happenings in our lives.

Finally, as we had our puddings, she asked me about my leaving home.

“I’ve just had enough of my mother trying to interfere in my, in our lives,” I said, “I know I can cope out there on my own, I’m keeping up with my school work, I went in on Friday and was told that I’d get very good grades on the AS levels this year and should do very well in the final A level exams next, so it looks like I will get into either Manchester or even Cambridge next year.”

“You’re still determined to go?” she asked, “but you don’t need to.”

“While it’s true that I could make the next film this summer and I’ll probably make enough from that to never need to work at anything ever again, but that’s not me,” I said, “I need to have something constructive to do. So if that all falls apart this autumn, at least I know I can have a career at something else. But what about you?”

“I don’t think that getting into Royal Northern will be an issue, I don’t think I’d even have to get the A levels, just pass the audition, but I will and I know that Munich will take me tomorrow if I’d go.”

“Talking of Munich, are you going to the summer school this year?”

“No,” she said, “I may be doing a recording of Tannhauser with Opera North.”

“That’s amazing,” I said, “singing the Shepherd again?”

“Yes,” she replied, “they are incredibly pleased with my singing and I’ve had an invitation to join their supplementary chorus. The school would count rehearsals as part of my musical training.”

“And are you going to do it?” I asked.

“I’m tempted, even if only for a short while, it will look good on my CV and my College application.”

Another subject that we hadn’t touched on was Sandy and, specifically the effect that her death had had on me, but I was sure that it would be raised somewhere down the line.

We finished our puddings and, on the way, out I stopped off at the bar and paid the bill.

“So what are you going to do about Peter?” I asked on the way back.

“I’ll find out exactly what he’s been saying and then confront him in the common room and make him prove it or retract it.”

“I may have something to help you there back at the hotel,” I said.

“You have?” she said, “What?”

“Something that James, my agent suggested,” I said, “a digital sound recorder, which he recommended I set running whenever I have a conversation with somebody who isn’t either a close friend or a trusted business associate. I don’t use it for family either. It’s useful for situations where somebody claims that I’ve said or done anything. I turned it on as he came into the café at Fairburn. I’ll download it to my laptop tonight and email it to you.”

“You made a recording of that?” she asked, “I could kiss you.”

“Not while you’re driving, eh?” I suggested, “but I’d be open to that when we arrive back at the hotel.”

She laughed and I realised how much I’d missed that laugh.

As we drove along, she briefly removed her left hand from the wheel and squeezed my right one.

“I really do hope we can at least be real friends again,” she said.

“I hope so too,” I said, “I really do.”

“But do you think we could ever be anything more again?”

“At the moment, Cal,” I said, “all I can say is I don’t think that it’s impossible. But we need to take it one step at a time. How about we make Saturday a regular night for us to go out?”

“Just see each other one day a week?” she asked, a note of disappointment in her voice.

“There’s nothing to stop us getting together other times, but perhaps in a group, but that one night is our special time.”

“I think I could live with that, but aren’t you going to London soon?” she asked.

“Yes, late July or early August, I’ll be there for about three months, but I’ll have weekends free.”

“So on the weekends I have to be here on Saturdays you could come up here and I could come down there, except, wait, late July? It will be the summer holidays; we can alternate weekends between down there and home.

“I’m not sure I’d be happy coming home,” I said, “unless something happens with Mum in the meantime.”

“Then I’ll have to get my Mum to work on her,” she replied, “and you could talk to your Dad about it.”

We arrived back at the hotel and I invited her to join me for a coffee in the lounge. I wasn’t surprised when she accepted and I led her in, ordered coffee for two, sat her down and then went upstairs to get my laptop.

When I got back, I sat down and opened the laptop up. It was already connected to the hotel Wi-Fi, so I first connected my phone to it and uploaded the sound files from earlier, then opened up outlook attached the files and then asked Cal for her email. She gave me two, her personal Hotmail account and her school address.

“Don’t send anything too personal to that one, they have filters,” she said.

“Maybe I’ll save personal things for face to face,” I replied.

“Now that,” she said, “would be nice.”

I sent the files to both addresses just to be on the safe side and closed the laptop down.

“What time do you want to set off tomorrow?” I asked.

“I usually set off straight after tea,” she said, “is that all right for you?”

“Yes, I’ll arrange a hotel tomorrow morning.”

“Where will you find one?” she asked.

“Either online, or I’ll ask the reception here to do it.”

“Oh right,” she said, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“One of the advantages of being a sophisticated jet-setting TV star.”

She snorted.

“What was that for?”

“The idea of you being sophisticated.”

“Whatever,” I said, “It’s still an advantage of being responsible for your own life for six months.”

We finished our coffee and sat chatting for a few more minutes.

“Well,” she said finally, “I suppose it’s time for me to get going. Unless you…”

That was a preview of Teen Dreams Book 4. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «Teen Dreams Book 4» to Cart