David Mitchell - The Bone Clocks

I FLING OPEN MY BEDROOM CURTAINS, and theres the thirsty sky and the wide river full of ships and boats and stuff, but Im already thinking of Vinnys chocolaty eyes, shampoo down Vinnys back, beads of sweat on Vinnys shoulders, and Vinnys sly laugh, and by now my hearts going mental and, God, I wish I was waking up at Vinnys place in Peacock Street and not in my own stupid bedroom. Last night, the words just said themselves, Christ, I really love you, Vin, and Vinny puffed out a cloud of smoke and did this Prince Charles voice, One must say, ones frightfully partial to spending time with you too, Holly Sykes, and I nearly weed myself laughing, though I was a bit narked he didnt say I love you too back. If Im honest. Still, boyfriends act goofy to hide stuff, any magazinell tell you. Wish I could phone him right now. Wish theyd invent phones you can speak to anyone anywhere anytime on. Hell be riding his Norton to work in Rochester right now, in his leather jacket with LED ZEP spelled out in silver studs. Come September, when I turn sixteen, hell take me out on his Norton.

Someone slams a cupboard door, below.

Mam. No one elsed dare slam a door like that.

Suppose shes found out? says a twisted voice.

No. Weve been too careful, me and Vinny.

Shes menopausal, is Mam. Thatll be it.

TALKING HEADS Fear of Music is on my record player, so I lower the stylus. Vinny bought me this LP, the second Saturday we met at Magic Bus Records. Its an amazing record. I like Heaven and Memories Cant Wait but theres not a weak track on it. Vinnys been to New York and actually saw Talking Heads, live. His mate Dan was on security and got Vinny backstage after the gig, and he hung out with David Byrne and the band. If he goes back next year, hes taking me. I get dressed, finding each love bite and wishing I could go to Vinnys tonight, but hes meeting a bunch of mates in Dover. Men hate it when women act jealous, so I pretend not to be. My best friend Stellas gone to London to hunt for secondhand clothes at Camden Market. Mam says Im still too young to go to London without an adult so Stella took Ali Jessop instead. My biggest thrill todayll be hoovering the bar to earn my three pounds pocket money. Whoopy-doo. Then Ive got next weeks exams to revise for. But for two pins Id hand in blank papers and tell school where to shove Pythagoras triangles and Lord of the Flies and their life cycles of worms. I might, too.

Yeah. I might just do that.

DOWN IN THE kitchen, the atmospheres like Antarctica. Morning, I say, but only Jacko looks up from the window-seat where hes drawing. Sharons through in the lounge part, watching a cartoon. Dads downstairs in the hallway, talking with the delivery guy the truck from the brewerys grumbling away in front of the pub. Mams chopping cooking apples into cubes, giving me the silent treatment. Im supposed to say, Whats wrong, Mam, what have I done? but sod that for a game of soldiers. Obviously she noticed I was back late last night, but Ill let her raise the topic. I pour some milk over my Weetabix and take it to the table. Mam clangs the lid onto the pan and comes over. Right. What have you got to say for yourself?

Good morning to you too, Mam. Another hot day.

What have you got to say for yourself, young lady?

If in doubt, act innocent. Bout what exactly?

Her eyes go all snaky. What time did you get home?

Okay, okay, so I was a bit late, sorry.

Two hours isnt a bit late. Where were you?

I munch my Weetabix. Stellas. Lost track of time.

Well, thats peculiar, now, it really is. At ten oclock I phoned Stellas mam to find out where the hell you were, and guess what? Youd left before eight. So whos the liar here, Holly? You or her?

Shit. After leaving Stellas, I went for a walk.

And where did your walk take you to?

I sharpen each word. Along the river, all right?

Upstream or downstream, was it, this little walk?

I let a silence go by. What diffrence does it make?

Therere some cartoon explosions on the telly. Mam tells my sister, Turn that thing off and shut the door behind you, Sharon.

Thats not fair! Hollys the one getting told off.

Now, Sharon. And you too, Jacko, I want But Jackos already vanished. When Sharons left, Mam takes up the attack again: All alone, were you, on your walk?

Why this nasty feeling shes setting me up? Yeah.

How far dyou get on your walk, then, all alone?

What you want miles or kilometers?

Well, perhaps your little walk took you up Peacock Street, to a certain someone called Vincent Costello? The kitchen sort of swirls, and through the window, on the Essex shore of the river, a tiny stick-mans lifting his bike off the ferry. Lost for words all of a sudden? Let me jog your memory: ten oclock last night, closing the blinds, front window, wearing a T-shirt and not a lot else.

Yes, I did go downstairs to get Vinny a lager. Yes, I did lower the blind in the front room. Yes, someone did walk by. Relax, Id told myself. Whats the chances of one stranger recognizing me? Mams expecting me to crumple, but I dont. Youre wasted as a barmaid, Mam. You ought to be handling supergrasses for MI5.

Mam gives me the Kath Sykes Filthy Glare. How old is he?

Now I fold my arms. None of your business.

Mams eyes go slitty. Twenty-four, apparently.

If you already know, whyre you asking?

Because a twenty-four-year-old man interfering with a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl is illegal. He could go to prison.

Ill be sixteen in September, and I reckon the Kent police have bigger fish to fry. Im old enough to make up my own mind about my relationships.

Mam lights one of her Marlboro Reds. Id kill for one. When I tell your father, hell flay this Costello fella alive.

Sure, Dad has to persuade piss-artists off the premises from time to time, all landlords do, but hes not the flaying-anyone-alive type. Brendan was fifteen when he was going out with Mandy Fry, and if you think they were just holding hands on the swings, they werent. Dont recall him getting the You could go to prison treatment.

She spells it out like Im a moron: Its different forboys.

I do an I-do-not-believe-what-Im-hearing snort.

Im telling you now, Holly, youll be seeing this car salesman again over my dead body.

Actually, Mam, Ill bloody see who I bloody well want!

New rules. Mam stubs out her fag. Im taking you to school and fetching you back in the van. You dont set foot outside unless its with me, your father, Brendan, or Ruth. If I glimpse this cradle snatcher anywhere near here, Ill be on the blower to the police to press charges yes, I will, so help me God. AndandIll call his employer and let them know that hes seducing underage schoolgirls.

Big fat seconds ooze by while all of this sinks in.

My tear ducts start twitching but theres no way Im giving Mrs. Hitler the pleasure. This isnt Saudi Arabia! You cant lock me up!

Live under our roof, you obey our rules. When I was your age

Yeah yeah yeah, you had twenty brothers and thirty sisters and forty grandparents and fifty acres of spuds to dig cause that was how life was in Auld feckin Oireland but this is England, Mam, England! And its the 1980s and if life was so feckin glorious in that West Cork