Fifteen Days Without a Head Read online

  ‘But why? I mean, why would she be there?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly … it’s complicated.’ I hand Mina the mug. ‘Mum finds it hard … just living, you know? She gets depressed. Not just sad … but really bad, like she can’t cope with anything. If she burns her toast it’s like a major disaster.’ I shrug. ‘I think sometimes … being here, with me and Jay … it’s too much for her.’

  Mina’s eyes are dark and very still. I look away.

  ‘She says drinking helps her feel normal. Sometimes it works. Sometimes she’s really happy … only it’s not like proper happy. It’s all too much, like there’s a big party going on that no one else can see. Other times she just gets angry.’

  ‘Has she ever gone away before?’

  ‘She’s stayed out all night a few times and once she disappeared for three days. Only that was when my Nanna was still alive. Someone found her passed out on a park bench and called an ambulance. The doctor said she was depressed. That she couldn’t cope with her life, so she ran away.’

  ‘You think that’s what she’s doing now?’

  I shrug.

  ‘What you gonna do?’

  ‘Dunno—make sure she’s there first.’

  ‘Are you gonna talk to her?’

  ‘Not today. I don’t want to scare her off.’ I grin. ‘I’ve got a plan, see. If everything works out, I might have something that’ll make her want to come home. But I won’t know until tonight.’

  ‘Why, what’s happening tonight?’

  ‘Sorry, I can’t tell you. Not yet anyway. If it works, I’ll tell you then.’ I shrug. ‘It’s been a secret all this time, I’m scared I’ll jinx it if I tell someone.’

  ‘You’re full of secrets, aren’t you, Laurence Laurence Roach!’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘So, who do you have to dress up as this time?’

  I laugh. ‘No dressing up—I hope!’

  Mina shakes her head. ‘Right, get lost then. My dad’s back from work at six, so I’ll need to be home by then.’

  ‘OK. It shouldn’t take long. Thanks, Mina.’

  I’ve been sitting here for hours. Hiding in the trees above the canal, getting hassled by wasps and gradually losing all feeling in my arse.

  At least I’ve got a good view of the boat. In fact it’s a perfect position, shielded from the opposite bank where the silver-haired man is fishing. He was there when I arrived and hasn’t moved since. The trouble is, neither has anybody on board the boat. It looks deserted—no smoke coming from the chimney, no lights in the windows … but I know she’s in there. I’ve got that feeling again. It’s so strong I can almost hear it—a low hum in the air, pulsing like a beacon inside the boat. But I want to see her. I need to be sure.

  What if she stays in there all day? Mum can sleep for hours, especially if she’s been on the booze the night before. I’ll have to go soon, so Mina can be home before her dad gets back. I wonder how she’s getting on with Jay? If I close my eyes I can see her standing on the roof in her rose dress … and something fizzes deep in my guts.

  I open my eyes and see movement on the boat. The silver-haired man dropping his fishing tackle onto the deck. He opens the door and steps inside, reappearing a moment later carrying a black rubbish sack … and there, behind him, framed by the dark rectangle of doorway, the pale figure of a woman. I can’t make out her features and I don’t recognize the clothes, but it’s Mum … it has to be. She hands the silver-haired man a red Parade Wines carrier bag and retreats out of sight. I watch as he crosses the lock and throws the bags into the trees on the opposite bank, then comes back and closes the door behind him.

  I wait, heart-thumping, for something else to happen. If I could just get a better look, just to be certain. But I’m running out of time.

  And then I get an idea.

  It doesn’t take long to locate the rubbish; it’s obviously not the first time this place has been used as a dump. There are black sacks scattered all over the place. I find the Parade Wines bag half-buried in a clump of stingers and drag it out with a stick. Inside are three empty red wine bottles—Mum’s favourite drink; a plastic tray with half a dozen shrivelled chips glued down with tomato sauce—Mum likes a lot of ketchup on her chips; then best of all—an empty, slightly soggy, gold packet of Benson and Hedges cigarettes. It’s like looking through the contents of our bin at home, minus the cockroaches.

  My heart is going so fast I feel sick.

  I’ve found her.

  I run all the way back to the Heights. I’ve been ages; Mina’s going to kill me.

  But when I get back, Mina and Jay are in the front room, drawing. The flat feels strange and it takes me a moment to work out why.

  ‘What’s wrong with the telly?’

  ‘Nothing,’ says Mina. ‘We switched it off.’

  ‘We’re drawing,’ says Jay. ‘Mina did one of me and you.’

  ‘It’s not very good.’ To my surprise, Mina is blushing.

  ‘It’s brilliant,’ says Jay, snatching up a sheet of paper and thrusting it at me. ‘It looks just like us.’

  The picture shows a little boy in a baseball cap, holding hands with a pair of giant legs and a T-shirt …

  ‘I haven’t got a head!’

  ‘I ran out of paper!’ Mina shrugs. ‘I was drawing Jay and he wanted me to draw you as well, but there wasn’t enough room for your head. Sorry.’

  ‘Shut up! It’s brilliant.’ Jay snatches the paper back. ‘Your face would spoil it anyway.’

  Mina laughs. ‘Laurence’s face isn’t that bad.’ Then they both look at me and frown. ‘Then again … maybe it is safer to leave it off … what d’you think, Jay?’

  Jay thinks this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and rolls onto his back laughing.

  ‘You’re not funny,’ I tell them. ‘Either of you.’

  Mina grins and stands up. ‘Maybe now might be a good time for me to leave.’

  ‘Where you going?’ says Jay, sitting up quickly.

  ‘I’ve got to go home now.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’ve got to. I’ll get into trouble if I’m back late.’

  ‘No!’ Jay grabs Mina’s arm and tries to pull her back down.

  ‘Jay! Let go!’ I tell him.

  He scowls at me. ‘No! It’s not up to you!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jay, I really do have to go now.’ Mina crouches down next to him. ‘But I’ll come and see you again, shall I? If Laurence says it’s OK.’

  ‘It’s not up to him!’

  She smiles. ‘OK, I will then.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘Promise?’

  Mina glances up at me, then nods. ‘Promise.’

  ‘OK, then.’ He sighs and lets go of her arm.

  Mina follows me down the hall. ‘So how’d you get on?’

  I tell her what happened at the canal—the figure on the boat and the evidence inside the rubbish bag.

  ‘Not much to go on.’

  I feel a prickle of annoyance. ‘It’s her. I know it is.’

  Mina shrugs. ‘OK … so what are you going to do now?’

  ‘I dunno. That depends on how it goes tonight.’

  ‘Ah! The next secret mission. Are you sure you’re not some kind of teenage spy or something?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right, you’ve caught me. You better not tell anyone or I’ll have to kill you.’

  ‘Fair enough I suppose.’ She grins. ‘Right, I should be going … before Dad gets home. I suppose you want me to go down the fire escape.’

  ‘No, you can use the stairs … but do you mind if I don’t come with you. If the woman downstairs sees us together …’ I shrug.

  ‘Ashamed of me are you?’

  ‘No! It’s …’

  She laughs and puts her hand on my arm. ‘Just messing with you, Big Man.’

  At the front door Mina stops and turns to face me.

  ‘Good luck tonight then … with your secret mission.’ She grins, then stands up
on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my lips. It’s so quick I hardly feel it.

  ‘Thanks!’

  Mina’s eyebrows flicker. ‘You don’t have to thank me, it was only a kiss.’

  ‘No, I mean …’ I swallow. ‘You know … Jay. Thanks for looking after Jay.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  I watch her cross the landing to the glass doors, where she turns and waves, grinning underneath those huge white sunglasses, and then she’s gone. I close the front door and walk back down the hall. The flat has never felt so empty.

  When the door goes I think it’s Mina.

  Maybe she’s forgotten something, or just come back because …

  I don’t think, I just open the door.

  Angie from the House of Fun is standing there, wearing a huge yellow dress, beaming at me.

  ‘Hello, Laurence love!’

  What’s she doing here? Then I remember the money we owe her.

  ‘Is Mum about?’ Angie looks past me down the hall.

  ‘Mum’s at work.’

  ‘We’ve not seen you and James for a couple of days,’ says Angie, easing her way into the flat.

  It doesn’t sound like a question, but it is.

  ‘We were ill. Both of us. So Mum said we should stay at home.’

  Angie nods. Her eyes are everywhere. The door to Mum’s bedroom is open, and you can see the stuff I tipped out all over the bed and the floor. I’ve got to get her out of here. If she finds out we’re on our own we’ve had it. Angie loves a crisis she can sweep in and sort out—somebody to save. But I don’t trust her. She’d take over and ruin everything. In ways she scares me more than Nelly, because it’s harder to stop people making you do things you don’t want to when they’re being nice.

  Angie looks like she’s about to say something, when the door to the front room opens and Jay appears. He sees Angie and his face lights up.

  ‘Hello, James!’ Angie bends down and places a pink hand on Jay’s sweaty forehead. ‘Ooh, you’re absolutely baking, pudding!’ She looks at me. ‘How long has he had this temperature?’

  ‘Not long.’ I manage not to shrug. I didn’t even know he had a temperature! But now she mentions it, I see how pale and pathetic he looks—standing there in his Scooby-Doo pyjamas, with jam stains down the front.

  ‘Has he seen a doctor?’

  ‘Mum’s going to take him later, after work.’

  ‘I think she should.’ Angie turns back to Jay. ‘You’re not a well bunny are you, sweetie?’

  Jay shakes his head and looks like he might cry.

  ‘I could take him if it would help?’

  ‘No! Thanks. I think Mum’s already … you know, sorted it out … for later.’

  ‘Is Mum coming back later?’ The surprise in Jay’s voice is so obvious there’s no way Angie hasn’t heard it.

  I give him my biggest plastic smile. ‘Yeah, course she is!’

  Jay frowns and opens his mouth to speak. I hold my breath, dreading what he might say, wishing I could get him out of here. Then the music starts—the familiar theme tune blasting out of the front room.

  ‘Scooby-Doo!’ says Jay, and runs off back to the telly, without even saying goodbye to Angie.

  It’s an effort not to laugh, I’m so relieved.

  Angie knows the moment’s gone, but she’ll be back.

  At the front door, she pauses and gives me a long meaningful look.

  ‘Laurence, if you need anything … someone to talk to …’ She puts her hand on my arm. ‘You know where I am.’

  I nod and smile and say thank you about five times, before she finally goes and I can shut the door.

  For a few seconds, I just stand there with my eyes closed, while the flat settles back into place, like a bell after ringing.

  Jay’s the colour of gone-off milk. His eyes are glazed and heavy, but he gets dressed so he can come with me to the phone box.

  ‘You need me,’ he says. ‘For back-up.’

  He doesn’t look great, but he’s probably just tired. Angie likes to make a big deal out of everything. There’s no way I’m taking Jay to the doctor. I don’t know where the doctor is for a start—but even if I did, it would be too risky—too many questions.

  ‘SO,’ says Baz. ‘Here we are. Did you ever DREAM this day would finally come, Daniel my friend?’

  ‘I’ve thought about it.’

  Baz laughs. ‘I BET you have! Are your bags packed?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Very wise, my friend, VERY wise … because you’re close. YOU—ARE—SOOOO CLOSE!’ Dramatic pause—another Baz special. ‘But you’re not there yet. If it was up to ME … I’d say HAVE the holiday! GO ON—TAKE IT! What’s three extra questions between friends, eh? But I CAN’T. As I speak, Cheryl is waving the Baz Bonanza BIG BOOK OF RULES at me—and BELIEVE ME when I tell you—it is ONE MIGHTY TOME! NOT a book you want dropped on you from a great height, by your irate female producer.’ Baz laughs. ‘SO … for the sake of my personal safety if nothing else, Dan, I am going to ask you THREE more questions—and then YOU can get on with your packing, and I can have a lie down! Because—I don’t know about you, my friend—but I’M a WRECK!’

  I laugh.

  ‘Daniel, my friend … Shall we DO this?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good man. QUESTION number one—you’re a cultured man, Daniel, how’s your Art History?’

  ‘Um … OK.’ I know nothing about art, but it is OK. I am feeling calm. If I don’t know, I can guess. I feel lucky.

  ‘WHICH artist,’ says Baz, ‘is credited—alongside Pablo Picasso—with creating the art movement known as Cubism? Was it A: Mondrian? B:Van Gogh? Or C: Braque?’

  Van Gogh is the only one I’ve heard of, but that feels too easy, the one they always put in there to trip you up. So is it A or C? I don’t know! My gut isn’t telling me anything.

  A line of cold sweat trickles down my back, and for the first time I feel a flicker of panic. Then I have an idea.

  I clamp the telephone to my shoulder and nudge Jay. I hold out my hands—my left has one finger extended—my right, three. One or three—A or C? Jay looks at me and frowns.

  ‘Pick one,’ I whisper.

  Jay shrugs and taps my right hand—the one with three fingers out.

  ‘C,’ I tell Baz.

  ‘Daniel. We’ve been friends for some time now,’ he says, ‘and if YOU came up to me in the pub—and told me that PABLO Picasso and GEORGES Braque were responsible for starting Cubism—do you know WHAT? I’d believe you … because you would be ABSOLUTELY RIGHT, my friend!’ The fake crowd roars behind Baz in the studio.

  I let out the breath I was holding and give Jay a thumbs up, but he’s not looking.

  ‘NEXT question. Staying on a cultural theme—though if I’m HONEST, this is more MY kind of culture!’ Baz chuckles. ‘In the seminal, SUBLIME piece of animated television, created by Mr Joe Ruby and Mr Ken Spears—WHAT breed of dog—is Scooby-Doo?’

  I almost laugh out loud. I don’t believe it! What are the chances? Do I feel lucky? Er … yeah!

  Baz is doing a bad Scooby-Doo impression and going on about how he always fancied Daphne. Finally, he finishes the question.

  ‘So, Scooby-Doo—what kind of DOG is he, Dan? Your choices are: A: Great Dane? B: Doberman? Or C: Dachshund? Is that how you say that? Dachshund? Or is it Dash-hound? Cheryl?’

  ‘Scooby’s a Great Dane, Baz. A.’

  ‘ABSOLUTELY correct, my friend—of COURSE he is. Marvellous! Cubism to cartoons. You see—THAT’S what you get on this show—the ENTIRE GAMUT of cultural experience!’

  One question to go.

  I shiver.

  One more correct answer and I’ve done it. I’ve won the holiday. I can go and see Mum—tell her we’re all getting out of here—a week away in the sun. Sorted.

  ‘Here we go,’ says Baz, and in the background I can hear the start of ‘We Will Rock You’ by Queen. I see a field full of waving arms; feel the thump of the drum in
my chest and the movement in the air of a thousand voices chanting in rhythm. I’m floating, looking down on two figures in the crowd—a tall boy with his arms around a girl in a red and gold blazer. I’m overwhelmed by a sense of absolute calm. I let the noise take me, high into the night, filling my lungs with ecstasy.

  ‘Question NUMBER THREE. Sport.’

  Oh no!

  ‘Daniel—which of the following—is NO LONGER an Olympic sport? Is it A: Beach Volleyball? B: Lacrosse? Or C: BMX Cycling?’

  It had to be a sport question.

  ‘Remember, Dan, we want to know which ONE of these sports IS NOT contested at the Olympic Games?’

  Calm down, Laurence. Positive Thoughts. You feel lucky. Flying above the crowd—remember? Just work it out.

  None of them sound like Olympic Sports to me, but then that’s the whole point. It has to be BMX—that’s the most ridiculous—so that’s probably the trap. One of the others then—Lacrosse or Beach Volleyball? I’m not sure what Lacrosse is, but it sounds like it could be a sport. Beach Volleyball though? Where would they get the sand from?

  ‘Daniel?’ says Baz.

  I’m trying to think, but there’s nothing there—just a void, like my head is missing. Just like in Mina’s picture.

  ‘I’m going to HAVE to ask you for an answer, my friend.’

  ‘Beach Volleyball—A.’ It’s the sand. Where would they get the sand?

  The line goes quiet. For a moment I think I’ve been cut off again, then I hear Baz breathe.

  ‘You SAID you were feeling lucky,’ says Baz. ‘You TOLD ME! Baz, I feel lucky. THAT’S WHAT YOU SAID!’

  I’ve done it. I’ve won. He’s just winding me up.

  ‘Yeah,’ I whisper.

  ‘You LET me down!’ says Baz. ‘LACROSSE is the sport that WILL NOT be played at the next Olympic Games.’ The sound of tumbleweed rolls through the Radio Ham studio and into my ear. I feel sick.

  Baz is back at the mic. ‘But it’s NOT over yet, boys and girls! Daniel got TWO questions right, which means our challenger will have to get ALL THREE—if he wants to take control of the Baz Bonanza Olympic flame. But CAN he do it?’

  Keith, a software engineer from Hardacre, sounds nervous. He’s struggling to get his words out and Baz is having to work hard to keep things going. I’m starting to feel better. All I need is for Keith to get one answer wrong and I’ve got a chance.