Prologue

I could tell you what has happened. But for you to understand, I need to take you back … right back. To 1974.

When people talk about the 70s, they will fill your head with free love, drugs and rock and roll. Actually, that sounds pretty good, especially the free love part.

But what I'm going to tell you is initially from the eyes of a six year old - me, funnily enough. I know you want to put this down, but bear with me. We all like to peek into someone else's life - however boring it may be.

So. Let's find our setting.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then I'll begin …


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Chapter One

1974

Summer - 1974. Hot, sticky and filled with promise. Days filled with nothing but what my imagination could conjure up - and that could be pretty frightening. Streets were packed with children on school holidays, playing 'tiggy-it' and kerby, and avoiding cars as they raced to retrieve an errant ball. Space hoppers were the new black.

I was six years old. It was Levenshulme. Once an affluent part of Manchester, but now filled with students and ethnic minorities. Old radios blasted 'Shang a Lang' and 'Puppy Love' into the street. Mothers bawled at kids climbing the fence to the railway tracks where they would flatten pennies, completely unaware that they could be flattened too.

I loved my childhood. Loved it in a fucked up way. We were poor - dirt poor. I came from a family of five brothers and two sisters, all older than me, and all avoided me like the plague. Except Jo of course. She was sixteen months older than me, and my idol. Her role on this earth was to be my surrogate mother, and to this day she still holds that place. We were like Siamese twins, but without the shared organs. Even our farts smelt the same. Uncanny or what? But Jo still brags that hers don't smell (they always did, but I tried to ignore it and closed my mouth sharpish). We looked completely different, but relatives still confused us, and my mother had to resort to colour coding to differentiate. Of course we mixed and matched outfits just to be little bleeders, and Jo hid her pink-rimmed National Health glasses at family gatherings as the final straw.

Kids. Gotta love 'em.

Well … I have told you this much, I might as well introduce the other spawns in my family. Five brothers … urgh! Every girl's nightmare, and if you met them you would understand why. Patrick, aka Sniffer (which characterises his approach to the opposite sex), is the eldest son. Simon, who is fondly known as Ebenezer (need I say more?), is the second eldest. Brian was the third, and in the words of my mum, 'is such a bloody liar'. He was the one where the doctors after the birth, advised my mother to use birth control in the future.

No such luck. Aiden popped out, much to the disdain of my mother, who initially disowned him. Pity she didn't stick to her guns. But then came the crowning glory. Queen Angie, Queenie, Dammer, Screamer. 'Who is this bundle of fun?' I hear you ask. My big sister, sometimes wonderful … sometimes a psycho - which I found out the hard way. She was a git to all of us when playing chief babysitter and tyrant, when my mum worked at the nightclub. Over the years our relationship has grown stronger though - probably because now I can protect myself.

The last brother finally came … what a prize! Alan. Our Adge. Skid mark. Yup … Skid mark, on account of the very fancy designs in his underpants. David Hockney watch out - abstract (f)art.

Then it was Jo's turn (short for Joanne) - the last but one. She had a myriad of names … but Bulber and Mazda were the main two. Reason being - her head was uncannily shaped like a light bulb, and it looked like her body was constantly having brilliant ideas.

Now me, I had a fine selection of nicknames. So many in fact I had trouble remembering my real name, which didn't add to my appearance of intelligence. Primarily I was known as Bergans (left outside the butchers of the same name for five hours, and not missed until tea was being dished out) and Chunky (generic name with the rest of the family). I introduced myself as Chunky. Other names sneaked in - Henry the Eighth - no - I wasn't a fat polygamist with syphilis … or a beard. It was just the way I used to eat, you know, like it was the first morsel that had passed my lips in ages.

But wait. I think I need to go back just a little bit further - you know, complete the picture of the darling child I was. I'll totally understand if you don't want to read anymore, but please believe me - it does get better!

I was born (very David Copperfield-ish - not the magician - the sponging whining fucker Dickens wrote of), in the year of our Lord, Nineteen Hundred and Sixty Eight. To say I was a beautiful baby … would be a lie. I was very long, very ugly, with a bald head, and eyes like a Lemur. Of course I developed into a fat toddler but still with very large eyes, which, fortunately, enabled me to see in the dark when the Electricity Company cut us off.

I was the last of the bunch. One look at me and my mother finally cried 'No more!' Years later, she admitted that if the umbilical cord had not been attached, she would have sworn I wasn't hers. Angie loves to recall the day that they brought me home from the hospital. Her job was chief guard, standing at the front door like a bouncer, barring entrance to the neighbours: 'As not to frighten the womenfolk and kids.' This tale is told at every opportunity, usually between hysterical laughter and finger pointing (in my direction - where I would sit … glowing). She loves to retell it, like the Ancient Mariner, as she feels 'cursed' to regale it over and over again. She even takes on the features of the decrepit old seaman -dribbling accompanying the overexcitement and spitting.

My mother used to bounce me and Jo down the road in a dilapidated pram, (Jo, who was cuddly, beautiful and always had a ready smile), trying to avoid well-wishers in her path. Jo, of course, removed people's attention from my owl-like eyes, but on the occasions she wasn't present, the focus of the admiration went on the pram. I didn't care as long as they left me alone to chew through the plastic mattress at the base. It was bliss on raw gums … cool, yet satisfying.

I wasn't the bravest of children. I was even scared of a rabbit once. Yes. You read that right - a rabbit. You may think that rabbits can't hurt you, but they can, as I will prove.

There was a woman who lived up the road from us. Weird bugger. Smelt of bleach and cigarettes. Well … she was a creative soul and a bit of an animal lover - and I mean 'bit'. In her back garden she had erected a majestic centrepiece consisting of soil, broken bricks and bottles. It was beautiful … in a soily, brokeny bottle and brick kind of way - almost modern art .. and very underrated by the rest of the community

The hutch itself sat pride of place, resembling an Anderson shelter sawn in half and decorated lovingly with chicken wire. I can remember it as if it was yesterday … it was class. My sister led me up to the monument that proved women should never be given free reign with a drill. (This was the 70s and I can be Politically Incorrect - just this once). All it took was the aid of climbing gear and (in the words of a Blue Peter presenter), 'a responsible adult'.

The ascent began.

Never in my young life had I been so scared. Thoughts flitted through my mind of what terrible monster would be imprisoned in a fortress like that. So, being an idiot, I started to back off, caught my heel in a broken Dandelion and Burdock bottle, fell backwards onto an artistically smashed house brick that was coyly peeping from the middle of the mound … and gashed my head open.

Of course , the wailing started. Many of the elderly residents thought the Germans were invading, as they had been secretly and quietly preparing for years. Have you ever noticed that children initially cry with no sound? Their mouths stretched to capacity, eyes dry, but not a sound to be heard. Then suddenly a low whine is discernible, culminating into the loudest, most annoying howl audible to mankind (heaven knows how dogs cope), and the waterworks go into overdrive.

I raced away, vowing silently I would never trust another Blue Peter presenter again, with my hands rising in slow motion up to the cut on my head, needing my mum like I'd never needed her before. All this amidst the initial laughter of the neighbours. Bastards. Concern came later, especially when my family came round to sort out the 'caged monster' and the smelly weird fucker who would allow a child to climb her monument unarmed.

As I said before, Levenshulme was very multicultural - especially of Asian descent. There was an Indian kid who lived down the road, who Jo and I were friends with. One day, his father gave us an onion bahji. We had never seen one of these strange things before. So … Jo and I played catch with it for a while and then bounced it home. How were we to know that this was a special offering from one culture to another? Just think how offended we would have been if we had given them a Holland's Steak and Kidney pudding and they had played cricket with it. But we were kids … how were we to know?

Anyway. Jo's best friend, Tina Brace, lived in the road opposite ours. Tina's nickname was the 'Rooter', as most of her playing time was spent rooting through my mum's drawers and the kitchen cupboards. We used to slag her off, but she did come in handy. If we couldn't find anything, Tina always knew where it was and would direct us to it. 'Oh, I noticed that when I was going to the toilet. It's in the Lads' bedroom … in the cupboard in the far left corner … second drawer down, right up the back'. She was to be one of many strange friends who would come and go over the years.

I was unfortunate in that I had to share a bedroom with Angie, Jo and the whole Osmond family (especially Donny). This should have mentally scarred me, but it just made me stronger … and thankfully, when Jo's Cliff Richard obsession kicked in … I was prepared.

Donny Osmond was Angie's idol. Whatever pop tune rattled forth from between that enormous set of teeth, was like the National anthem for my sister. The whole family had to stand to attention (in absolute silence) for the King of the teenybopper world. When I woke up frightened in the night and couldn't sleep (being a 'whinging little get' as Angie called me), she would try to calm me down with the words 'Donny's laughing at you.'

Right enough he was. Wherever I looked … he grinned back. Even when I opened the drawers he was flirting with me through the mound of my underwear. God, I hated him … smarmy bugger - and the rest of his family! I hated Puppy Love and bloody Paper Roses. I hoped he would get distemper, and someone would pour petrol over Marie's roses … ending with a delicate kiss with a lighted match.

Before I go on to tell you what happened to me when I was six, I need to tell you how I became the distrustful person I am today. Nothing spectacular - but let's just say a lesson learned, okay? You can be the judge.

Would you be tempted with a free glass of lemonade? Especially if all you usually got was Corporation pop (water), or when your mum was flush … Vimto? I was. Very.

It was an ordinary evening. Quiet … for some unexplainable reason. And it all boiled down to my sister … Jo. She asked me if I would like a drink of the aforementioned lemonade. Of course I did! What sugar-craving child wouldn't? The lemonade, as free gifts usually do, came with a catch. I had to carry her on my back, on all fours like a donkey, for half an hour. I should have guessed that Jo did not have any lemonade … she did not have any money to buy lemonade … but I trusted her. She was my surrogate mum after all.

On the floor I went, not even four years old and scrabbling around on all fours building up my thirst. I asked intermittently when I was going to receive my well-earned refreshment, only to be told 'Soon. Soon.' Now, looking back, the crooning tone of her voice should have told me something was not right. The innocence of youth, eh?

Eventually, through sheer exhaustion, I rebelled and demanded that I should be paid in full for my services. Jo paid in full … by the God, she paid in full. The payment of lemonade came in the shape of pee - donated by her - over my back. I can still hear the laughter in her voice as she shrilled 'Enjoy your lemonade, you deserve it!' All I can say is it's a good job that she never promised me chocolate. To this day, she still can't tell me why she did it, just mumbles something about being possessed.

The story doesn't end there I'm afraid. My brother Patrick's latest victim, sorry girlfriend, was staying with us at the time, and every time a police car went past she wanted to play 'Let's Hide Under the Bed'. Once again - children are so gullible. Nowadays I would be at the bedroom window screaming 'She's here … in here … under the bed!' Unfortunately, she had to share the room with me, Jo, Angie, and the Osmonds (all of us in a dilapidated double bed), but when she walked into a puddle of pee, I thought the shit was going to hit the fan. Obviously it was my fault … and she classed me as a disgusting degenerate (my face said 'uh?'), and promptly stormed off to sleep with my brother. Many years later I realised this was her golden opportunity to get between the sheets with Sniffer, and I wasn't really a freak of nature - still not sure about Jo though.

I know … I'm going off the point.

Oh … all right then …

Summer - 1974. Hot, sticky and filled with promise. Days filled with nothing but what my imagination could conjure up - and that could be pretty frightening. Streets were packed with children on school holidays, playing tiggy-it and kerby, and avoiding cars as they raced to retrieve an errant ball. Space hoppers were the new black.

I was six years old. It was Levenshulme. And that's where I first spotted Ashley Richards … or Ash, as she liked to be called …

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Chapter Two

Ashley Richards. Even today, when I say her name my whole body smiles.

I can still remember it vividly … the day she fell into my arms … fell into my life.

Yes.

Fell.

In our front garden we had a huge tree in the corner … huge. I used to love climbing up as high as I could to get away from the brood, and even at six years old I could get pretty high. My mum, to this day, doesn't know I used to climb it. I used to sit above her when she would be bellowing out into the streets the litany of names of my siblings, all in rank order, announcing that 'Your bloody tea's on the table!'

Amazing what power you can possess by being just a little higher than everyone else. I felt on top of the world.

Every teatime it was the same. Until one Sunday that is …

I had climbed one branch higher than usual and was perched there, gloating. Mum had been and gone and I had watched my brothers and sisters trundle in the front door one by one, ready for tea. I had just climbed down when I heard a distinct rustling of leaves coming from overhead.

It was, or so it seemed, a split second later when something landed on me. It was big. It was heavy. It was wriggling like crazy on top of my battered and bruised body.

It was Ash (as I later found out).

Blue eyes wide with shock and panic - and pain …. if my aching backside and stomach was any gauge. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around her, and both our squirming bodies meshed into each other. Black hair tumbled forward and part of it went inside my mouth, an obvious distraction when I was trying to scream.

The more we tried to separate, the more entangled we became. A voice from above me hollered 'Stop!' and like the good girl I was - I did. I lay there completely rigid as the blue-eyed girl systematically pulled herself free, allowing my scrawny arms to flop lifelessly to my sides.

'Are you okay?' Concern was evident. The tears I had felt welling up in my throat - you know the ones we try to swallow but become like footballs - miraculously disappeared. Silently I nodded my head, looking at the now towering girl looming above me. I wasn't okay, but damned if I was going to admit it to her.

She held her hand down towards me to help me up, and for a split second I considered the idea of refusing, but the pains shooting up the cheeks of my arse told me to stop being a martyr and accept.

So I did.

Her hands were cool in comparison to my clammy, dirty ones, and with one deft movement I was on my feet … I don't think I even had the chance of bending my legs. I staggered forward only to be captured by her once again, my head hitting her in the chest. Jesus … she was so tall. The feeling I had whilst lying on the ground came back - she still towered above me!

'Sorry about that …' her eyes flicked to the tree, 'I kind of lost my footing somewhere along the line.' I just stared at her, gob-smacked. I wanted to demand why she had been there in the first place, but nothing would come out. I must have appeared simple … and I think for those few minutes I was. 'Are you sure you're okay?' A quick nod was all I could muster. Her face took on a concerned look … and my arse was still throbbing to the tune of the birds singing.

After about a minute of staring at me, she stuck her hand in my direction. 'Ashley Richards. Erm … or Ash. I just moved down the Avenue about two weeks ago.'

I was just about to answer - my mouth had formed around a word and was ready to let it slip through my gormless lips when 'Bloody hell, Lou. Your tea's on the table. In!' Mum. And she was pissed off. Big style.

I turned back to Ashley and flashed her a smile, 'Got to go. See ya around, yeah?' Her face broke out into an enormous grin and she nodded, her hand still outstretched. Impulsively, I grabbed her hand and pumped up and down like I had seen my mum doing to people she had just met. Those cool fingers clutched at mine for a brief moment before my mum's increasing ire got in the way.

'Inside now, lady. You can speak to your friend tomorrow.'

Another smile lit up my face. A friend. Yup. I liked the sound of that.

Before I had a chance to say anything else, she was gone. And I turned back and wobbled indoors, the cheeks of my arse screaming, but the smile on my face said 'Stuff it. I have a new friend.'

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Sunday night was always nit inspection night. My mum was like a woman possessed when it came to our six legged friends who liked to party in her kids' hair. So Sunday night was known as 'The Treatment' night.

Every Sunday was the same. Bath. Clean pyjamas. And a thorough grooming, ready for school the next day. Just because we had broken up for school holidays didn't stop the de-lousing regime. Unfortunately. And let me tell you, if you have never had the 'pleasure' of Derbac … well … you've been lucky. At least it didn't set in your hair like Suleo.

Anyway, mum would line us up in order of age and douse the louse with the most fouling smelling lotion ever invented. Even today I prefer dog farts. It wasn't just the lotion - it was the combing. I think the person who invented the comb must have done so with the help of a microscope and evil intention. My hair tangled easily, and having something so fine scraped through was agony. The effect was tearstained cheeks, red rimmed eyes and Christopher Lee hair - the lot of us were like a band of extras in a Hammer House Production.

Over time this regime dwindled down to just Alan, Jo and me, as the others had grown and adamantly refused. And they used to sit … smugly … in the front room, when the 'infested trio' would have to stay in the dining room and were only allowed to go in the best room if we stayed away from everyone - especially out of line of draughts from the windows, which would waft the smell around the room. God help us if we sat on the furniture. We could have been hired out on Safaris - elephants would have been stunned at twenty paces.

This Sunday was no different. The agony … the screaming … the pleading for mercy. And that was just my brother. He was such a boy sometimes. It was funny … in retrospect, obviously. Especially watching my mum crack the little critters between her nails when she had caught them in the comb. Word of warning - never struggle with your mother when she is de-lousing you - there is only ever one winner, and it sure isn't you. And … and this is a biggie … always be ready to run in case her cig sets your head on fire. No. That's a lie. She always made sure it never went near enough to actually catch alight, properly balancing it on top of the gas fire.

But Alan …Alan was a mard-arse - always was, and most certainly still is.

It still makes me smile to remember him in the throws of a rain dance, wailing to the gods, informing everyone and everything he hated them … with all his heart. He was always the main attraction on Sundays … we could have charged admittance, but we were used to it. Every week the same.

Then the doorknocker went. The insurance man had dropped by for mum's contribution … and we didn't even have time to hide behind the furniture. Not that we could have got away with it, as Alan was in the midst of his jungle fever. Only now I realise my mum was embarrassed by the smell and the noise. No one else actually paid any attention to what was going on - in a household our size it was very unusual to have quiet time.

All the time the insurance man was there, Alan danced. Every question the man asked my mum had to ask to be repeated because of Alan's rantings. Jo and I just sat on the floor, quietly doing Christopher Lee impressions, but inside laughing our asses off. Alan was a knob head - still is.

I still believe this episode scarred my brother. Mainly because he had the lotion on longer than the thirty minutes - I don't know. All that medication soaking through his scalp, breathing in all those fumes whilst screaming must have taken its toll. Definitely the reason why he has never intellectually advanced - or maybe it's because he was always a wanker. Who knows?

After the insurance man had gone, and Alan had been thoroughly dealt with, Jo and I were sent to bed to meet Donny et al. Fucking Osmonds.

It was only after mum had gone back down to give Alan another pasting to stop his crying (go figure) that Jo asked me where I had got my bruises from. Her eyes held concern … and I knew she must have been worrying about this since bath time, as the bruise started at the base of my spine and curved itself around one cheek. There is no way she wouldn't have noticed it … although Angie hadn't. She was too busy trying to get us sorted so she could get up the park with her mates.

Donny was smiling at me as I turned to Jo, 'I was standing under the tree ...'

'What have I told you about climbing that tree? I'll tell mum if you go up it again.'

'I didn't fall out of it. Ash did.'

'How on earth can ash cause a bruise like that?' And I started laughing. 'It's not funny, Lou. You'll end up killing yourself or worse.' Nope. I didn't get it either … killing yourself or worse? Never mind.

'Not ash! Ash!' She looked at me like I was an idiot, 'Ashley … Ashley Richards from down the Avenue?' Still a vacant look. 'Moved in a couple of weeks ago.' Realisation broke out and I could see it take over the blank expression from earlier.

It was short lived.

'What do you mean Ash fell out of the tree?'

I loved my sister, but sometimes she was too overprotective. It was a full twenty minutes later before she was satisfied I had not been ambushed.

As I snuggled into bed, the big dilapidated double I shared with both Jo an Angie, I smiled to myself.

'I've got a friend.' Then silently wished Donny goodnight.

And I couldn't wait to see what the next day would bring.

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Chapter Three

It wasn't long before we were firm friends, although Ash was Jo's age. As for Jo … well … she wasn't too pleased my affections for her had been split. But being her, she took it on the chin and allowed me some semblance of freedom.

Days were spent in childish adventure. Ash was so much fun, although she barely said a word to anybody else. Mum nicknamed her my 'shadow', as she was always standing quietly behind me whenever she was in the company of any of my family.

Now, my family were friendly, don't get me wrong. They were just … big. There were loads of us. The only person Ash hadn't met was my dad. And come to think of it, I hadn't seen him myself for quite a while. He was a long distance lorry driver and spent a lot of time on the road; the time not on the road was spent in the pub.

I remember when I was about four, my mum had got me up in the middle of the night, or so it seemed, to introduce me to him. Years later I realised they had been in the middle of an argument. To put it mildly, my father was a tosser. He didn't give two shits about his family. All he cared about was himself and the pub. I can still remember him sat there in the front room, sunglasses on (at night time) listening to Dean Martin's Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime, and singing really badly.

Mum had ushered both Jo and me into the room and it was like the rabbit incident all over again. Who was this man sat in the chair singing whilst wearing sunglasses? Even to this day I read people's eyes - I don't trust people if I can't see their eyes. I learned that the hard way.

It was only because Jo seemed to know him that I let down my guard.

I wish I hadn't bothered.

Enough about him for now … you'll hear more about that tosser later.

Ash. I wanted to skip every time I thought of her. She was a lot taller than me even though she was nearly eight (well … seven and three quarters- eight in October) - but she appeared bigger. Black hair cascaded down her back; her face was slightly tanned through all the outdoor activities we shared. But the most striking thing about her was her eyes. Blue, a light blue, a twinkling blue that captured the sun's rays and made them dance.

It wasn't long before she became the centre of my world. Everything I did I wanted her to be a part of it. Everything I saw I wanted her to see.

We were inseparable. It was fantastic.

Jo backed off from me and spent more time with Tina, telling me I was always welcome to hang about with her anytime. I don't know why, but she didn't really take to Ash … but at the time I didn't give it much thought.

Summer days were spent in play … in adventure. Things I had done a thousand times on my own seemed to take on a different meaning when I did them with Ash.

She even showed me how to climb that damned tree properly, although I still had the memory of her plunging down from quite a height.

I trusted her.

Completely.

I fit quite nicely into her family too. She had two brothers, Stephen and Anthony, one older, one younger. Her dad used to torment her, saying it was an Ashley sandwich. I could tell she was their pride and joy.

It was strange to watch her family together. Her parents were so interested in what they all were doing, taking time to chat to them, ask how their day had been. Her mother was a full time mum, always there for them. Her father was a policeman, and he made my brothers nervous - especially Sniffer's girlfriend.

It made me reflect, in my childish way, about my own parents. I loved my mum so much … she tried as hard as she could to provide for us, considering my dad was AWOL most of the time. Now I'm an adult I fully realise what she had to go through. Eight children and barely two pennies to rub together. No wonder she had to work at a night club to earn enough to clothe and feed us. A man can't support both the pub and his family, and my father preferred to support the local brewery.

Ash's family semi-adopted me. I spent most of my free time there, reading her books - especially loving it when she read to me. This treat sometimes followed us up the tree where we would sit, hidden from view and she would read to me. I had to be careful I didn't relax too much and fall backwards … again.

Ash, her two brothers and me used to perform Abba's Waterloo in her bedroom. I don't think Stephen and Anthony really wanted to be Benny and Bjorn - but they didn't really have a say in the matter. Ash could be quite forceful when the mood took her.

We practised for days trying to get the moves right, turning our heads at just the right moment. I still haven't got the hang of coordination, but that's beside the point.

When we thought we had perfected it, we put the single on the small box record player and performed our masterpiece to her parents. I followed her every move … like usual … and shrilled out 'My my … At Wa-ter-loo Na-po-le-on did sur-render …yeh yeh …' The applause from her parents was deafening … nearly as bad as our singing.

I felt on top of the world.

Again.

I should have sung the Carpenters.

One of my favourite memories was the day we went to Concroft Park. It was the day I realised Ash was everything I would ever want or need in my life.

It was quite a walk from our house, and we were toting carrier bags full of sandwiches and pop to eat on our day out. Inside the bags were also two books, Ash's jumper, an old blanket and a ball. It was going to be a good day.

And it was.

The very first thing we did was feed the ducks. We stood there, side by side, looking for all the world like a pair of ragamuffins, not speaking in our task but fully content just … to just … be. I think we gave them nearly all our sandwiches but we didn't care.

Swings, slides, roundabouts and reading. In that order. Then, we did it all again, but this time we had a game of catch before we lay back on the grass and just read.

I didn't know how long I had been asleep, I suddenly felt the splodge of rain hit my skin like an ice cube. And again … and again … until it was constant. I felt Ash looming above me, her shadow blocking my view, her body sheltering me from the downpour.

'Lou … come on, Lou. We need to go.' Her voice seemed echoey, distant. The chill from the rain made me shiver. I had only a t-shirt and shorts on and I was freezing. I could see Ash shaking with cold too. Her hand was trembling as it reached down to me, rivulets of water running down the bare flesh.

'We need to get back.' I grabbed her hand and with one deft movement she pulled me to my feet. 'Here.' A jumper was shoved in my direction. My eyes looked into blue, which were clouded with worry. 'Put it on … you'll catch your death …'

'But …'

'But nothing. Put it on … no arguments.' I watched her as I pulled the jumper over my head, missing the sight of her as the thick red material fell over my eyes. The jumper was barely on my skin before she grabbed my hand and began to pull me along.

Rain lashed against us as we struggled against the downpour. There was no point looking for shelter, as the rain looked as if it would be with us for quite a while.

Ash had the blanket and books (the ball long forgotten) shoved under her arm, her other arm occupied with pulling me along, my short legs struggling to keep up.

We had gone a little way before she pulled me under the bus shelter just outside the park. 'We can't get the bus, Ash, we haven't any money.'

'Shhuuusssshh. We're not getting the bus … here … hold these.' She thrust the books into my hands and started fluffing out the blanket. Her face was filled with concentration as she struggled with the chequered cloth, her black hair sticking to the side of her face. I was freezing, and by the looks of her shaking body, so was Ash.

'Come here.' Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. But I went without question. 'I'm going to try a stop us getting completely soaked.' I looked up at her, forever in awe of my older friend. She made me feel so protected. I knew she would take care of me whatever happened. 'I'm going to hold the blanket over us. Here … put your arm round my waist and hold on.'

As soon as I slipped my arm around her, which was quite an effort because of our height difference; we were off, the slick and slippery pavement almost a blur.

Ash was determined we wouldn't get any more wet than we already were. The books I held were becoming soggy and heavy, and my grip tightened about them with grim determination. I wanted to keep my part of the bargain.

It seemed like forever. The rain really held us back, but I didn't feel frightened or worried. The presence of Ash calmed me. The feeling of her guiding me both with her body and the top of her arm made me feel secure … and, strangely enough, happy.

When we got outside her house I fully expected her to dash in and send me on my way, but no, she insisted she saw me to my front door, with a mumbled 'That's what friends are for.' Secretly, I was pleased.

The front door loomed ahead of us, and I could feel her slowing down. It wasn't until we reached the gate that she stopped. 'Go on … you get in.' Impulsively, I threw my arms around her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek. I think I surprised her because she dropped the blanket to her shoulders and looked me squarely in the face. 'What was that for?' Her voice was quiet, but I heard every word as if it has been shouted.

'For taking care of me.'

'Don't be daft.' But I could see she felt pleased with my words. 'Go on … get gone.' And she planted a little kiss on my forehead, before she gave me a gentle shove.

I raced towards the door and hammered the knocker, turning to face Ash whilst I waited for someone to let me in.

The image of her standing there will forever be etched into my mind. Rain pummelled down on her, but she just stood there, staring right back at me. Her hair was a tangled mess of wetness, clinging to the side of her face, her fringe dripping water into her eyes. The pale cream t-shirt was like a second skin, transparent and heavy. Rivulets of water raced down her legs and collected at the tops of her ankle socks. Splodges of dirt coated her calves and knees, but they were beginning to become washed away.

'Bloody hell, Lou! You're pissed wet through!' Mum's voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to face her. 'Get in and get those clothes off before you catch your death.'

Ash's jumper! I still had it on. I turned to speak to her but she was on her way out the gate, the blanket covering her shoulders. 'Ash!' She stopped, and turned towards me, a question in her eyes. 'Your jumper!'

'Keep it … I'll get it later.' Her face broke out into a dazzling smile and I forgot about the rain, forgot about the jumper, forgot how cold I was. That smile lit up everything and made me feel warm inside.

'Come on, Lou … in!'

'Laters, Ash.'

'Laters.' And she was gone. Racing through puddles, water splashing up her legs, the blanket billowing out as only soaked blankets could do.

But there wasn't going to be any 'Laters'. 'Laters' had to wait for another ten years.

My father made sure of that.

Bastard.

*****************************************************

Chapter Four

After a hot bath, shared with Jo of course, it was tea and an early night. I felt so happy going to sleep, but the happiness didn't last long.

Voices woke me. Not gentle voices … by any stretch of the imagination. These voices were raised in argument, words spewing forth that no child should ever hear.

It was my parents.

Funny thing is, even though my mum and dad didn't get along as well as other parents, they rarely argued. So, this was a surprise to say the least.

Honestly speaking though, surprise was the last emotion I was feeling at the time.

Fear was top of the list.

'You all right, Lou?' Jo's voice filtered through the darkness, a small hand came and landed on the top of my arm, stroking up and down.

The shouting was getting closer, the anger more evident. I could feel the tears welling up and slipping from my eyes. I began to shake - couldn't stop it - I was scared and confused. I could hear Jo trying to comfort me, but I could hear the fear in her voice also. This must be bad if she was scared.

Raised voices were right outside our door now, the words clear to everyone.

We were leaving. Tonight. Mum had obviously found out about all the affairs my father had been having, and the child his girlfriend from Scotland was carrying.

Only later did I understand the full concept of these revelations. Only later did I overhear my mum telling one of her sisters of a letter she had found, addressed to her, in his work bag. A letter from a seventeen year old girl who was three and a half months pregnant. Only later did I fully understand this man was a total wanker, although I'd always had my suspicions.

Even Donny didn't seem to be laughing now.

Light blinded me as the door flew back and my mum came into the room with a roll of black bags.

'Come on girls. Get yourselves up. We're going on a trip.' She tried to keep her voice cheerful, but we knew this trip wasn't to Butlins. 'Here…' She passed us a couple of bags she had torn off, 'pack as many clothes as you can into these … Angie's too.'

'Over my dead body!' My father bellowed.

'It can be arranged.' Her voice was a growl, and even my father slunk back, knowing that she would rip his head off if he as much as made a move in our direction.

Not that he would have put himself on the line like that. He was neither brave, nor did he give a damn. His kids and family meant nothing to him. He had proved that with his inability to give two shits about anyone but himself.

My body was shaking. My small hands were grabbing everything and anything, randomly shoving clothes haphazardly. Jo was crouched next to me, tears trickling down her face as she slowly placed each item carefully into the sack.

My world was falling apart … falling apart … falling apart. Each refrain mimicked the action of my hands, as they silently packed the few belongings we owned into shiny black plastic. Every muscle seemed to vibrate through me … panic and fear vying for dominance …

Until it struck me …

Ash.

When could I see Ash?

Could I say goodbye to her?

I didn't want to say goodbye … a noise danced in my throat … a wail waiting to be released into the silent room. I didn't want to leave Ash … she was my friend … I didn't want to leave.

Tremors shook through me, the wail winning out, the tears flowing freely now. I brought my hand to my face to smear the tears across my cheeks, my nose bunging up, breathing becoming difficult.

'Come on sweetheart. It'll be all right.' Mum was crouching next to me, trying to get me to calm down, her loving hands on my shoulders, quickly rubbing the knotted muscles. 'We'll still be together …'

Instead of calming me, this thought just made me cry even harder. Loving hands slipped underneath my armpits and I felt myself being lifted into the familiar scent of my mum. 'Shush there, sweetheart … I've got you.'

It was ages before she let me go. She rocked me back and forth, stroking up and down my spine. Jo stood silently next to us both, her hand tangling through my hair.

That's just like my sister. She must have been feeling just as scared as me, but she still rose above it and worried about me first. That is why I love her as much as I do.

An hour later saw us in the back of a black cab. Mum, Angie, Alan, Jo and me … five bin bags and not much else. We looked a sorry sight. The rest of the lads decided to stay with their father - their father, as he was no longer mine … and I doubt he ever was - although biologically I could never escape that fact.

I can still remember the taxi driver reversing into Ash's road, and my eyes staring up to the dark window of her room. I wanted to wake her up … tell her that whatever happened she was still my friend and I loved her.

But as the taxi pulled away, I felt a part of me stay there in Levenshulme. I just hoped that Ash would find it and know I didn't want to go … didn't want to leave her.

I had to take some comfort from the knowledge that no matter how long it took … I would find her again.

That was a promise.


***************************************************************

Chapter Five

1984 - Ten years later …

Loads of things had happened in those ten years. Too many to go into any detail, but the main thing was, I never had the opportunity to see Ash again. Never had the chance to say goodbye.

Every time it rained I thought about her. I know … weird. Even to this day, as soon as it rains heavily, I still have the image of her standing there, drenched to the skin, hair and body soaking wet, smiling at me, even though she was freezing cold.

I still have those books from that day. They still look like concertinas, all bevelled and ruined. The pages barely separate and they look tired and old. I keep them wrapped up in a bright red jumper. Her bright red jumper. They were the only things I had of hers and there was no way I would part with them.

Ever.

After my mum left my dad, I found out she had actually been seeing someone else. It was funny in a way, because I had met him on more than one occasion. He worked with my mum at the nightclub - he was the head chef, so I had never thought it was weird when my mum had taken me and Jo around to his flat to meet him.

To tell the truth, I thought he was wonderful. He always had time to chat, always took an interest in what we were doing, and in retrospect I realised he thought the absolute world of my mum. It was good for the soul to see her so happy. Years had been wasted with a man who had told her nobody else would ever give her a second look, but now she was with a man who thought the sun rose and fell because she was on the earth.

Those ten years were not easy, by any stretch of the imagination. My dad had great joy divorcing my mum on the grounds of adultery. All his philandering meant nothing to him, and he glorified in his statement that he would never forgive her for leaving him … 'for another man at that.' He failed to recognise his own shortcomings - the affairs, the lies, the fact he got a girl who was a year older than his daughter pregnant, believing it was his right to do all these things.

My brothers were on his side, following steadily in his footsteps as womanisers and drunks. All except Alan, and as soon as he was old enough he was off to join the gang. I told you he was an idiot didn't I?

Angie had married a man who looked like Brains from Thunderbirds, although most of the time he reminded me more of Joe 90. Four of my brothers got married and then three of them got divorced. They were definitely like their father. Actually Aiden was remarried … and wifey number two was getting sick and tired of his absences … and I don't mean the times he spent in nick either. I doubt they will ever learn.

At sixteen I left school and started college to do my A levels.

And that is when I saw her again.

Ash.

My Ash. In the flesh. Bigger, taller, darker, and absolutely positively the most gorgeous creature on the planet.

I hadn't been enrolled very long, and was still trying to find my way around Stockport College, when I saw her. Don't get me wrong here. I didn't look at her and say to myself 'Oh look! That's Ash.' It was more embarrassing than that.

A lot more.

Being a 'newbie' we were constantly the butt of everybody's jokes. When we asked for directions we were sent the opposite way; we were told stories about teachers to make us wary of the staff. They took the piss out of us constantly, but that was to be expected. All in all, it worked out fine.

Until the incident.

I still cringe about it to this day, but realise if it hadn't happened I would never had met Ash again.

I had been at college for two weeks, and had made a few friends who insisted I went along to the karaoke night at the student union. As you well know, I couldn't hold a note (still can't), but I'd agreed, on the understanding I would not be getting up there and making a fool of myself.

Big mistake.

I should have stayed home and washed my hair … watched telly … read a book. Even studied.

But no. Karaoke night it was.

My friends were there, all cramped around a table with some older students, laughing and fitting in well. I bought a coke from the bar and joined them. They seemed like a nice bunch, although slightly pissed already and it was only eight o'clock.

As the night wore on, more people were getting up the nerve to sing. Not me. I just sat there and sipped my drink, laughed in all the right places, and chatted mainly with Mandy, a girl who was in my A level Sociology course, and at who's house I would be staying over at that night.

I felt quite relaxed, and I think it had something to do with what Ray, an older Art student, kept slipping in my drink. He thought he was being sly about it, but he was too pissed to realise he was being obvious.

Then came the joints. I had never even smoked a cigarette, never mind a joint, but hey - it was college, and everyone else was doing it.

Another … big … mistake.

I swear, I only had a couple of drags … honestly your honour … just the two. But it felt like I had smoked ten. And that's how I found myself on the stage, in the student's union, singing 'Waterloo'. Fuck.

And then …

Double fuck.

The lights in the place were blinding. The smoke in the air was making my throat dry up even more than it was already, but for some strange reason I didn't care. I was waving my arm above my head and croaking out the jumbled words to Abba's winning song. I was killing it … slaughtering the poor song … hanging it up and slitting its metaphorical throat.

About a third of the way through, I felt someone come behind me on the stage and begin to sing with me. I was overjoyed, and not a little zealous, to thank this person for becoming part of my act. I turned and stumbled into something warm and tall. I knew it was female because my face was pressed into some very impressive breasts. A laugh escaped as I stumbled back and looked up into …pale … blue … eyes.

I froze.

The eyes had me.

The rabbit incident happened all over again. I don't know why I stepped away, maybe it was to focus my attention on the whole package, and not just those blue eyes gazing intently into my own.

Now this was the biggest mistake of them all. I know … drinking alcohol as a minor, smoking pot, murdering an Abba song - they were mistakes, kind of … but stepping back … stepping backwards on a tiny stage and not paying attention …

That's the show stealer.

I landed squarely on top of a table full of empty glasses, surrounded by amorous young men, ready for a woman to drop into their lives. Plastic glasses flew in all directions, my arse hitting the edge with enough velocity to tip the table forward and enable me to slide gracefully to the ground.

The music stopped. The room was silent for what seemed like an age. And then the laughter began. Raucous laughter that ricocheted off the walls and pounded in my befuddled ears. The room began to spin - not a good sign, especially because my stomach began to spin with it.

A concerned face hovered in front of me, and I struggled to control my wandering eyeballs, which decided to move on their own volition about the sockets.

They landed on blue eyes, twinkling blue eyes that captured me in a tractor beam gaze. I was transfixed. My body ceased to squirm, my eyeballs decided to behave and focus on this vision in front of me.

'Lou?' That voice. So familiar, yet so different. 'It is you, isn't it?' I couldn't answer … I was struck mute by the situation, the alcohol, the pot, and her eyes. 'Louise Turner? It's you, isn't it?' Her hand came out and stroked my cheek, my eyes fluttering closed.

'Ash.' The word parted my lips in a gesture of hope. I couldn't believe it was her … couldn't believe after all these years she would just pop into my world again.

'Yup … in the flesh.' I opened one eye to focus on her, taking in her classic beauty again. My reaction to this vision was one I bet many of you have experienced at one time or another.

I threw up.

All over her.

In a bar full of people.

And then I threw up again.

I told you it was embarrassing, didn't I?

*********************************************************

Chapter Six

Grey dawn peeked through the window and nearly blinded me. My eyes felt like red hot coals in snow. Not good.

The taste in my mouth was indescribable, as all the flavours that had spewed forth the previous night came back to haunt me. And I mean spewed …

The bed I was in was big … and not my own. And even in my state, I knew I wasn't alone. Shit. What had I done last night?

I tried to think … but my brain was AWOL … and the empty space where it should have been sitting was occupied by a full out drum section.

Mandy's. I was at Mandy's. It must be Mandy's bed I was curled up in, and that must be Mandy who is spooning up the back of me with her arm draped over my belly.

Just a minute … spooning the back of me? With her arm around my middle?

A quick look under the covers told me I was undressed … a t-shirt that obviously wasn't one of my own was covering my top half, but the bottom half was … gulp … naked. Shit … again. What had I done last night?

Tentatively I turned around, fully expecting to see Mandy's ruffled brown hair on the pillow behind me.

But I was wrong … oh, so wrong. The sight that greeted me was like a blast from the past. Long black hair cascaded over the pillow, a fine chiselled face angelic in sleep, the nose straight and perfect.

Older, yet still faultless.

Ashley Richards.

My eyes shot open at this revelation. I was half-naked in bed with Ashley Richards. Ash. My Ash. The Ash I hadn't seen for over ten years. And here I was, hung over, with the taste of dead kittens lingering around in my mouth. Shit … big time.

To say I was embarrassed would be redundant, as images of me puking over her the previous night came gallivanting back into my mind. Not sick on her once … but twice! How was I going to get away with that one? I wanted to get up, dress, and run. My wild eyes scanned the room, looking for my jeans and top from the previous night.

They weren't anywhere. Fuck.

The idea of going home with just the t-shirt on actually became an option at one point. But could I really do with all the stares on the bus? Well …

'Morning, Lou.'

Too late! I took too long! I was caught now. Oh crap. I resigned myself to the situation, albeit unwillingly, and said the only thing that popped in my mind.

'Can I borrow a toothbrush?' Sweet, eh? I hadn't seen her for ten years and all I could manage to do was throw up all over her and then ask to borrow a toothbrush.

Her face broke out into an all out grin, white teeth shining in the morning's growing light. She threw her arms above her head, and I felt the loss of the contact immediately. She stretched , making a little mewling noise as she did so. 'Sure … I'll just show you where the bathroom is and get you a toothbrush.' That smile again. 'I bet your mouth feels like crap, doesn't it?'

Could I go any redder? Nope. Not unless you dipped my head in ketchup.

'Come on then … I'll show you.' With that, she leapt out of bed, exposing miles of naked legs. Did I say I couldn't go any redder?

I lied.

**************************************************************

I spent ages in the bathroom. Ash had told me to grab a shower if I wanted one, and by one quick sniff of my skin, I decided she hadn't asked out of politeness.

The water was like a gift from the gods - cool on my over heated skin, the throbbing of the brass band in my head was calming to a dull roar. Minty toothpaste tried its very best to decompose the lingering tastes in my mouth … and eventually I calmed it down enough to feel a little more confident about speaking to people.

I had been in the bathroom for a good forty minutes before I realised I was at Ash's house. I knew I was at Ash's house, what I meant to say was Ash's house - from when we were kids. I couldn't believe it. After all these years she was still in the same place where I had left her. I also couldn't believe I hadn't noticed where I was before that.

Blame the hangover.

A sense of sadness washed over me. Why hadn't I written to her? I had missed her so much in those ten years - I could have dropped her a note to tell her what had happened. I honestly can't tell you why I didn't … I felt so stupid … so shallow. The only excuse I could think of was that I had been only six at the time, and by the time I could have written to her, tried to find her or made some effort to try to contact her again, too much time had passed.

I wasn't even sure she'd remember me.

What must Ash think of me? What must she have thought when I just disappeared off the face of the earth one night and never even contacted her … when she lived at the same fucking address she always had?

The sadness flopped into my gut, stopping the churning of misspent youth, and weighing heavily on my conscience. I sat on the toilet seat and put my head in my hands, trying to find some semblance of reason in my fucked up mind.

Then it dawned on me. Like a lightning bolt from the subconscious. Why hadn't she tried to find me? Unreasonable, I know, but anything to pass the buck.

I leaned back against the cool wood of the toilet seat and sucked in a breath. What was the point of going over past events? It wouldn't change anything, would it?

At least I had the opportunity to see her again … like I always promised myself, but was too bloody lazy to do anything about. A grin split my face. I was here, in Ashley Richards' house, and she was just down the hallway from me. I had the opportunity to have her back in my life once again … A bigger smile adorned my face.

'Lou? Are you okay in there?' Her voice was like nectar to my ears. I felt like I had been transported back ten years. 'I've made you a coffee …'

'I'll be right there!' Then I quickly rubbed the towel through my long hair again, threw on the dressing gown she had given me, and opened the door to my future.

Ash. My Ash. Back in my life again.

What a day! What a bloody fantastic day!

Hangover forgotten, I nearly skipped down the hallway to my old friend's bedroom.

*******************************************************

Over coffee, Ash told me about her life up to now. She was studying Law, Psychology, Social Sciences and Maths at A level, as she wanted to join the police force like her father. Well, she had the height for it; she must have been getting on for six foot if the length of her legs were anything to go by.

They went on for miles. I don't know what had possessed me that morning, but I had difficulty tearing my eyes from the long expanse of flesh sticking out from the bottom of her sleeping shorts.

Weird. I had never had the inclination to eye up another female's legs. But they were really long … and I mean really long. Probably because mine are really short.

Time with her seemed to fly by, and we chatted about college courses with ease, but at the back of my mind I really wanted to tell her why I hadn't contacted her, why I hadn't had the chance to say goodbye.

The problem was, I didn't want to broach it … it was still painful for many reasons. Luckily enough, I didn't have to.

'Sorry to hear about your parents splitting up.' My eyes shot up to her face, captured in the blueness of her eyes. Concern radiated from them … and once again I felt her protectiveness, her willingness to take care of me … just by her voice. 'It was a bit of surprise when I came round to get you the next day …' a small laugh escaped her, and she shook her head from side to side.

'Did you speak to anyone?' My voice sounded small, childlike.

'Your dad, actually.' She shifted in her chair, and I could sense the unease pouring from her. 'He … erm … well let's just say he wasn't very forthcoming in giving too much away.'

'What did he say?' My voice was firmer now, and I could feel the hatred I had for my father welling up inside. Bastard. He had still found an opportunity to fuck up my life. No wonder she hadn't tried to find me. I know, I know … she was only a child … but I had to blame someone … I had to try to rationalise what had happened.

Blue eyes looked at me nervously. 'It doesn't mat …'

'What did he say?' The anger in my throat was choking me; I wanted to scream out for some reason. And this alone made me even more angry. After all these years, he could still get to me. Every time I thought of what he had done … not just to me, but to us all … especially my mum … I couldn't seem to control my emotions.

'Look … Lou. It's in the past.' As she said this, she leaned forward and placed her hand on my leg. The contact made me suck in my breath and I felt the fight leave just as quickly as it had arrived. 'Don't let him win.' Her voice was so soft, so caring, so Ash. How could I fight that?

My gaze drifted back down to her hand, which by now was making gentle circles on my thigh, and I could feel a sensation building inside my gut.

It wasn't a feeling one friend should have about another. Definitely not.

I jerked back on the chair to escape her touch, embarrassed with this sensation. My eyes drifted to her hand … stopped … and … stared at the long tapering fingers moving serenely over my goosebumping flesh. I shook my head to break the gaze and then allowed my eyes to travel up to meet her face. Those blue orbs just escaped my bewildered look, as they slipped down to rest on the unconscious action of her hand.

Surprise unmasked and raw coated her face, only fleetingly, granted, but still there for the briefest of moments. Without warning, she snatched it away, curling the fingers into a pose of protectiveness, like she had be burned.

'Ash?' The questioning tone I used on her name focused her attention back on my face. Her eyes seemed troubled, like whirlpools. Troubled … yes, that's the word to describe her look. She seemed troubled for some reason. I don't know why. 'What is it?'

It took less than a heartbeat to change her expression from perturbed to the face splitting grin she always had ready. A shrug of the shoulders, followed by a hard resounding slap on my leg was her next action. A familiar reaction between friends.

I laughed, although she had a good slap on her, my reddening leg living proof. The laughter seemed to break the amounting tension in the room, and it seemed to fit with the situation. Then she joined in, her eyes still seemed a little distant at first, but gradually became softer as the laughter took hold.

It was in this state of laughter that her previous words of comfort came crashing back into my mind.

She was right … the past doesn't matter, it can only guide us to a better future. A learning process we needed to acknowledge before we could move on.

I decided to move on. And hopefully take Ash with me.

******************************************************************


Chapter Seven

It wasn't long after that I got my clothes back (which she had kindly washed and dried because of the splattering of vomit that coated them), got dressed and found I didn't actually want to go home. It felt good being in her company once again.

But, I had to go. I had promised Jo I would go shopping with her, under duress of course. I hated shopping with her … everything turned into a marathon. It was as if she was on a bet with God, and the bet was she could spot every bargain … try on anything that remotely fitted her … and piss me off in the process.

Nevertheless, I had promised. Even now, I can't contain the sigh that escapes when I think of shopping with my sister.

Ash and I exchanged addresses and phone numbers, and I distinctly remember folding the little sheet of paper so neatly and tucking it in the back pocket of my jeans … it felt like an offering.

As I was leaving, her mum appeared. She didn't look a day older than I remembered - her hair was still jet black and long, just like Ash's. They were similar in appearance except for the eyes … her mum's were grey, whereas Ash's were blue like her dad's.

'Well I never … its little Lou Turner, isn't it?'

'In the flesh, Mrs Richards.'

'Well I never … how long has it been? Ten … eleven years?' As she was saying it, she was walking over to me, peering into my face just to make sure. I should've known what was coming next, but the years had been kind to me. Mrs Richards had a habit of nearly crushing the life out of you when she was happy, and then, to add insult to injury, she would pinch your cheeks and wobble the flesh up and down until your mouth made a farting sound.

Not a pretty sight … or noise for that matter.

And it hurt like buggery … but nevertheless … it felt good to be remembered, and with such fondness too.

'You're not running off already are you? Stay for a cuppa.' She still had my face in a vice like grip and my answer came out like a wet fart. 'Soon then?' I looked at her wide-eyed. How on earth had she understood my answer? 'Come for tea one night, yes?'

I nodded, and then sighed with relief as she let go of her death grip on my cheeks, the blood had fled in fright, and I must have looked a vision with my pasty fingerprinted face surrounded by a big red blob.

'I'd love to.' As I answered, I automatically turned to face Ash, who was grinning idiotically behind my back.

'Tomorrow, then? Sunday tea?'

'I … I … well …'

'Mum … don't pressure the poor girl. She's probably got arrangements already, haven't you?'

'Well … no, not really.'

'So you'll come then?'

There was no point arguing with her, so I just nodded, which gained me a huge smile from both of the Richards women. Women.

Women.

Ash was a woman.

That little girl of seven and three quarters was nearly eighteen. A woman.

Emotions flushed through me, happiness, sadness, maybe a little anger too. I had missed the ascent from childhood to adulthood, not just with Ash, but my own also. It is amazing how different your life becomes when one day it's all turned upside down for no fault of your own.

Ash's eyes clouded with concern at my expression, and I staved off the question I knew was bound to come with a beaming smile. Keeping my voice light, I answered, 'I'd love to.'

Sorted.

****************************************************

Stockport market was heaving with people. I can't tell you how many times I lost Jo amongst the crowds. She was like a spitfire, racing around the stalls, holding up the most hideous clothes to me and mouthing 'This will look great on you.'

Yeah … when I'm dead. Then I wouldn't be able to argue about the shit colour and the crap style. At least it was more fashionable than the creations my mum used to pick out. Jo and I could tell what she was going to pick up even before my mum spotted it. It had to be multicoloured, or just a biddy colour, and preferably with a kitten looking wide eyed on the front … ball of wool et al.

It makes my stomach churn just to think of it.

As I was saying, Jo was in her element picking up shite and measuring it against herself whilst I was looking my damndest to look alluring, propping myself up against the small wall at the side of the stall. I realise now I must have looked like a prostitute or just plain simple.

The beauty of youth, eh?

I was lost thought, mainly about Ash … obviously, and didn't hear Jo's question the first time round.

'Oi … gormless … I'm talking to you!' My eyes shot up to meet the daggers my sister was throwing me. 'Returned from Never Never Land, have you?' I shrugged. I thought I was so cool … you know what it's like … never let your guard down in front of absolute strangers.

'What?' I went for bored, hoping she would take the hint, and take me home so I could lie on my bed and think whilst blasting the neighbours with music.

'I asked if you had a good night last night.' She looked me squarely in the eyes. It was funny, but I hadn't even mentioned to her about bumping into Ash, I don't know why. Maybe it was because I was embarrassed about how it all happened.

'It was okay, I suppose.' I looked somewhat sheepish at this point, and there's one thing you can't keep from my sister. That's it … you can't keep one thing from her … she could read me like a book.

'What happened?' The smile slipped from her face and I knew I was on the verge of being interrogated.

'Not much.'

'Really?' She laid the top over the rack and slowly stepped away. Shit. I knew what was coming now.

'Fancy a coffee?' Here we go … her perfect interrogation technique was underway. She always thought I would crumble if she took me to a cafι and bought me a coffee.

Funny thing was … I did.

******************************************************

I didn't expect laughter. What I did expect was a thorough telling off. Especially for smoking pot. She surprised me by laughing, loudly, and pointing her finger at me. When I told her about falling off the stage, then throwing up, she laughed even harder, spluttering words along the lines of me deserving everything I got.

It was strange to watch the total change in her when I mentioned I had met Ash again; and that I had slept over at her house.

She was silent. All the laughter and finger pointing ceased. I didn't get it. One minute laughing: the next, stony silence.

'Are you going to see her again?' The question was so quiet, I had to strain to hear it.

'Well … erm … her … erm…' Why was I acting like a dick head? Why did it bother me that Jo didn't like Ash?

'Are you … or aren't you?' Clipped words.

'Yes ... erm … Ash's mum invited me for tea tomorrow.' I looked at her, my eyes wide, one eyebrow raised, and my mouth slightly open. I did look slightly simple, but I think I was waiting for her to say something.

She didn't. She just got up and paid the bill. It was only when she had nearly reached the door that she turned to me, flashed me a huge grin and said, 'Come on lard arse. There's bargains to get.'

I shuffled under the table to collect the three carrier bags of hers she already had me carrying, and scuttled after her.

I had a grin plastered on my face, but underneath I was confused, and a little intrigued. I couldn't help but wonder again why Jo seemed to put a distance between my friendship with Ash and my relationship with her.

Maybe one day I would get to the truth.

**********************************************************


Chapter Eight

Sunday tea is always a good tea isn't it. It's the time where you have the opportunity to go all out and make something nice. Now, personally, I love my mum's roast dinners, although my dad (yes … he's my dad) is the chef. I think it's what you get used to really.

But Sunday tea is still a time where the family get together, and share stories. In my family, we always told stories of the past … the funny ones … especially stories about what we did as kids. I used to love those teas … erm … still do, in fact. It's tradition. Eat sandwiches and cake, drink bucket loads of tea, and laugh at each other.

Perfect.

Now to miss Sunday tea at our house there had to be a good reason. Near death experience was okay, as long as you had a doctor's certificate … But general pissing off to see your mates was a no no. It was family time - or as my sister Angie always says (and this is enough to fuck anyone off) 'Quality Time' sounding more and more like a Hallmark greeting card.

I wanted to go to Ash's for tea. Obviously. My parents wanted me there. Obviously. Therefore, there was no competition.

I was going to Ash's … come hail or high water … I was going to her house for tea.

Stuff the consequences.

Initially my mum just gave me the look. Instead of explaining, I did what all teenagers did best.

I went 'into one'. Having a paddy … as my mum always said. I ranted and raved about never having any freedom, and when were they going to realise I was an adult. Mum just shot me another look, daring me to continue.

I'd had enough, and stomped up the stairs, making sure I banged every door on the way. Twice.

After throwing myself on the bed, burying my head in the pillow, and screaming into aforementioned pillow about how unfair my life was, how everyone was out to get me, I did the next best thing teenagers do.

I fell asleep.

It seemed like I had been asleep for hours, although it was more like forty-five minutes, I awoke to a gentle shaking of my shoulder. My head was still buried in the pillow, and for a split second, I thought I had gone blind.

Then unreasonable teenage angst traded places with fear of a life in the dark, as I remembered why I was in that position in the first place.

Muffled warnings about being left alone to grow old and fester in my room, escaped from the confines of the pillow.

'You can go … I've explained.' Jo. But …Jo? Jo didn't like Ash. Why would she explain for me? 'Mum said you can go to Ash's, but to make sure you are back before ten.'

Ten! I didn't care I had a curfew … that would leave me plenty of time to get to know my old friend again.

I turned over, leaving the pillow slightly damp from where I had drooled. Jo was sat on the edge of the bed looking at me with some concern. All the love I felt for her raced to the surface, and I threw my arms about her. 'You're a star, Jo. An absolute star!'

I could feel her smile on my shoulder as I hugged her senseless. Once again, my sister had gone out of her way to make me happy, knowing I was too awkward to do anything about the situation myself … knowing I was too much like a typical teenager to back down and talk about things reasonably.

Then a doubt crept into my mind. Why would she do that so I could see someone she visibly didn't like? Confusion masked my features until a thought poked itself into my brain.

Because she loves you, dumb ass.

Once again, I felt my face crack open into a grin.

And I love her too. Wouldn't you?


**************************************************************

Tea at Ash's house was exactly like ours. There was a huge spread laid out, and even though my stomach was in knots, for some unknown reason, I still could eat half of what was there.

All the family were present. Anthony, Stephen, Ash's mum and dad. Stephen had brought his girlfriend for tea and she sat, quietly, in the corner of the front room watching every move he made.

It seemed like yesterday when I had last been with this family. They all greeted me like an old friend, which of course I was, and made me feel like part of the family.

Tracy, Stephen's girlfriend, just sat there taking in the scene unfolding in front of her, her faced shouted suspicion, but her lips just became thinner and thinner. I was introduced as the long lost family member and she stuck out her hand in gesture, but the sentiment never reached her eyes.

Nobody else noticed but me. Ash was too busy running around finalising the spread; her parents were poking fun at her shouting 'Faster Ash! Faster!' and the lads were talking about football.

It was just me and Tracy.

Unfortunately.

She looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, gripped my hand tighter and pulled me closer to her. A harsh whisper spat out of her mouth, 'Keep your fucking hands off Stephen.'

Uh? What the hell had brought that on?

It was only half way through tea that the penny actually dropped - well fell, clinking and cluttering on top of the table in front of me. By all accounts they had all been ribbing Stephen before I came round about how he had had a crush on me when we were kids. He had been nearly nine then, and I couldn't believe his girlfriend had reacted in such a way.

What a gormless mare.

I had to put up with glaring looks from her, the Child Catcher, when all I wanted to do was take her outside and slap her around for a bit. All because Stephen used to have a crush on me ten years ago.

I mean - ten years!

How sad is that?

But my attention was taken as my eyes drifted on their own volition over to Ash time and time again. It was so good to be back with her and her family after all these years, and for some strange reason it didn't seem like I had been away.

It was the same chitchat; the same ribbing, joking and love bouncing back and forth to each member of the family.

I felt reborn.

And it felt good.

Stories were thrown around of childhood experiences … times that made us all flush with embarrassment. Ash even told the story of how I'd got my foot caught in the flared bottoms of my jeans and I had somersaulted arse over tit and landed, ungraciously, in a heap in the middle of the playing field.

God … I loved those jeans. Pale blue with embroidery of cornflowers growing up each leg.

Pure class.

Before I knew it, we were clearing the pots away and stacking them in the kitchen ready to wash. The whole family joined in, me included. The only one who didn't help was Tracy, which was no surprise. She just plonked herself back onto the chair and picked up the Sunday supplement from the newspaper and began flicking through the pages.

Everyone took turns giving her a look as they passed, but she didn't pay any attention to them, just carried on turning the pages and ignoring us all. I honestly couldn't see what Stephen saw in her. She was nothing to look at, and he was gorgeous. Tall, with raven black hair that seemed tousled in his boyish way. His eyes were a darker blue than Ash's but still intense … although they didn't catch the sunlight like hers did.

I caught myself staring. Not at Stephen … at Ash. She was so beautiful, and had a body to die for, although that rather defeats the purpose I suppose. Every movement she made seemed effortless … almost like she was a dancer on stage, captivating her audience with her graceful way.

And she was only washing up!

I stood there with the tea towel in my hand, gawping at her … mouth open … the works.

'Ah … we have a fly catcher amongst us.'

Ash's dad had decided to come and stand directly in my line of vision and make a smart arsed comment. I can vividly remember ducking my head to the side to continue to watch, and then feel embarrassed for some reason.

Funny how memories go. I can't really remember much else apart from embarrassment … the scarlet sheen my face had adopted more than compensated for the memory lapse, and the voices around me took on a definite burring quality.

The next thing I recall was a pair of twinkling blue eyes looking into my own and a firm hand on my arm. Her voice swept through me … caring tones … soothing tones … I looked at her, startled back into reality, and flushed even harder.

If that is possible.

'I have …' A cough to relieve all the emotion in my voice, changing it from a high-pitched squeak to a tenor with a cold. 'I have to go … I have to get home.' Why did I lie? It was only eight o'clock, and I still had two hours before curfew.

Worst thing was … Ash knew this. She looked at me slightly puzzled and her face dropped … just a little … but it dropped all the same.

A nod. Swift and sure. She turned around, her back was my only view. 'Okay … Will you be all right getting back?' She sounded different somehow … distant for some reason. 'I can get Stephen to run you home if you want … Tracy will have to lump it.'

'I'm fine … honestly … I can walk …' She turned around so quickly, my eyes spun in their sockets trying to focus.

'You'll do no such thing! Stephen! Stephen!' And she was off, racing into the front room, leaving me standing there in her kitchen like a lemon.

Thirty seconds later, she was back, her grin splitting her face. 'Sorted. Stephen said he'll take you at nine.' I looked at her squarely in the eyes. She cocked her head at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge. 'And you'll still be early.' Her expression begged me to argue with her … but I was no fool.

Not then anyway.

We spent the next hour in her room, sprawled on her bed, her music blasting from her record player. Every teenager's dream … loud music and idle chatter. Ash had Yazoo's Upstairs at Eric's playing and we were lying on our backs staring at the ceiling. I had listened to the album before, as it was already a couple of years old, but hadn't really paid it much attention before now.

Then I heard it.

The song.

The song.

Alison Moyet's pure and sensuous voice filtered through the gloom of Ash's room as 'Only You' started.

Looking through the window above
It's like story of love
Can you hear me?
Came back only yesterday …


And all I ever knew
Only you …

I felt my heart open and then … crack … a splintering splitting noise reverberated through me …

All I ever needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day …

'Lou? Lou? Are you alright?' I snapped myself into consciousness, now fully aware I was sitting bolt upright, my hands balled into fists, the covers of her bed wrapped firmly within my grip. My knuckles white and nails were jabbing into the sensitive flesh of my palms.

For a reason I had no clue about. 'Are you …'

'I'm fine, Ash … honestly … just felt a little bit of cramp coming … it's gone now.' Her face was so full of concern, and I felt like a git lying … again … to her. What was wrong with me? I had developed a deep-rooted need to lie through my teeth.

The song had finished and the next one on the album had started. I couldn't concentrate on the lyrics, as I felt slightly dazed by emotion. It was confusing, to say the least. How on earth … or should I say, why on earth had I reacted in that way to a song? I had heard it hundreds of times before and … nothing.

Fifteen minutes later I was in Stephen's beat up Ford Escort, Tracy in the front … glaring at me … her eyes screaming 'Fucker!' but her face oozed anxiety at my predicament of being without either a car, or a boyfriend with a car. At least I understood why she was such a troll. A fucking shallow one at that.

I left Ash with a promise of getting in contact in the week; maybe have lunch if our timetables allowed it. She waved vigorously from her doorway, and was still there as her brother's car turned the corner.

I settled down into the back seat.

What a day? Or evening … I should say. I made a promise to myself to buy Yazoo's album. I don't know why. Especially after my earlier reaction. It just seemed the right thing to do.

But being a teenager at college, money was scarce … So, I decided to get myself a Saturday job … up the coffers a little bit. It would do me good to have a bit of cash to spend on things. And the sacrifice on part of my free time seemed a small price to pay for a little bit of monetary freedom.

Bugger. I hated work … although it does fascinate me. I could, without doubt, watch it all day.


**************************************************************


Chapter Nine

The week flew by in a blur, and I hadn't seen Ash at all. This was mainly due to me avoiding all of the usual haunts, and telling mum I was too busy to take messages when she called … twice.

I felt bad. I don't know why … and I didn't know why I was avoiding her. I wanted to see her … really wanted to meet with her for lunch, become part of her circle of friends … get to know her again.

Then another week passed. This time with no phone calls … and I was withdrawing more and more into my own little world. I still had friends, but for some reason they didn't seem to be enough. I didn't see Ash at college, but strangely enough, I saw Tracy six times.

Six fucking times!

Each time was an experience, to say the least. Each time made my skin crawl as if I had scabies. A bunch of cronies sporting bad mullets and peroxide blonde fringes always flagged her. How cool is that? Lacy tops showed wife beater t-shirts underneath, and scrawny white arms reflected fluorescent lighting.

In a word - trashy.

I ignored her snide remarks as I passed, but swore one day to paste the living crap out of her. She was trying to intimidate me, thinking I was scared of her. If she only knew the thing that scared me the most was her smile … now that was freaky. Black kohl pencilled eyes showed a blankness that belied reason. She appeared to have the intelligence of an amoeba … and the sexual lure. God only knew what Stephen saw in her.

But I didn't care about Tracy … oh no. It paled in comparison to how I was missing Ash. The pain I had experienced as a child when I had lost her seemed to disappear when I realised how much I missed her now. And I had only seen her twice.

The third time came on the Friday afternoon.

Now there's a memory. Even better than the rabbit incident … the treatment night and Alan's dancing … even the free glass of lemonade. Although the overall effect combined caused more fear, laughter and embarrassment than the previous three memories put together.

Do you want to hear it? Tough … you've got this far … now deal.

I had just finished A level English and was making my way out of the door, chatting with Sue, another student, when I heard my name being called above the din. I couldn't mistake that rich alto voice.

Ash.

I turned to see her fighting against the tide trying to get to me. Students shoved and mumbled as she ducked past them, her eyes never leaving mine … like a tractor beam luring me to her.

I just stood there. Transfixed. Waiting for the ear bashing she was going to give me. I did feel guilty for ignoring her phone calls and the messages to call back.

That wasn't all I was feeling.

No.

Not by a long shot.

Adrenalin pumped through my veins as I stood there waiting for her to get to me. It must have been less than a minute, but it seemed like a lifetime before she was standing, grinning, in front of me, making my heart bounce around trapped within my rib cage. I think it was in fear … or … I don't know … it was just there like a tennis ball rebounding and punching the inside of my chest.

'Hello stranger.' That voice could melt butter straight from the fridge.

Hold on a minute!

Melt butter straight from the fridge? Where the fuck did that come from?

I just stood there and grinned like a Cheshire cat … clearly the simple looking grimacing beetroot one you don't usually come across in the illustrations for the children's book. I started to nod, my mouth opening and closing, words escaping me and the only sound was that of a captured fish.

She just stared at me, the grin fixed on her face in genuine affection, waiting for my dumb brain to acknowledge her with a simple hello.

When it didn't come, she shifted nervously, the smile leaving her face briefly, but coming back twice as powerful. 'Where've you been? I've called a couple of times … left messages …'

Thankfully, the mute spell that had bewitched me, lifted, and I spluttered out an incomprehensible excuse, which only made her grin wider and grab hold of me in a bone-crushing hug.

'Oh … I've missed you, Lou. Don't ask me why … but I have.' Her breath tangled in my hair and brushed my cheek. Her arms were strong and I felt the feeling of safety cascade down my whole body … like I always did when I was with her.

She pulled back and released me, the air of the corridor bouncing off my skin like an alien concept. I missed her closeness for some unknown reason. Weird, I know … but I did.

'Fancy a coffee?' I started to say no, but the look on her face made my resolve drift away. I couldn't remember why I was avoiding her in the first place. Come to think of it … why was I avoiding her?

'Love to.' I didn't want to analyse the reason for a teenagers whims … I must have had a good reason, but for the life of me I couldn't think of it now. All I could think of was the enchanting look on her face; the crooked smile playing on her lips, an eyebrow lifted in question as she waited for my response.

And maybe that was the reason …

And maybe I should have said no and walked away …

And maybe I wouldn't have experienced the combination of rabbits … Derbac … and lemonade all rolled into one.

Well … maybes don't build experiences … and I was on a one-way trip to Experience Land.

Unfortunately.

**************************************************************

The canteen, or refectory as some sad git called it, was packed, and we had to scrunch up in the corner with hot chocolates in polystyrene cups. A couple of art students were sitting opposite us with the traditional dyed black hair, makeup that would make Alice Cooper blush, and pasty white skin. They were giggling and religiously touching each other … quite inappropriately for a college canteen … erm … refectory.

Boys today, eh?

It was a bit of an eye opener that's for sure.

Before long, I had forgotten about why I had tried to avoid Ash and just glowed in her presence. She gabbled on about her courses, what she had been up to, whilst I barely said a word. I was content just to sit in her shadow and soak up all that was her.

It was such a wonderful feeling … intense … but wonderful. The smile on my face grew wider and wider as she entertained me about some sad bastard on her course that couldn't even make a cup of tea without adult supervision. He wanted to be a Solicitor … and couldn't even work the washing machine. I felt sorry for his future clients.

Within thirty minutes, I was laughing aloud at her antics, and was finding it increasingly difficult to breath. My chest ached with laughter … and with something else, which at that time I didn't want to put a name to. Well … not as much didn't, as couldn't.

I can't tell you how long we sat engrossed in conversation, but I could distinctly feel the canteen empty … the touchy feely boys had long since gone, and then it was just me and Ash … again.

'What are you doing tonight? Are you free?' She leaned forward and looked me squarely in the face. 'Me and a few friends are thinking about going to the Student's Union … they've got a Karaoke night on.' Still, she watched for any signs of refusal.

But that was the last thing in my mind at that moment. I was caught by her eyes … I felt the room melt into nothing as I just sat there and stared at her eyes … transfixed by them … pulled into her by them … feeling emotions one friend shouldn't be feeling for another.

She didn't back away. Her body leaned half way over the table and she just kept on staring … waiting … and if I wasn't mistaken …

'Excuse me, ladies.'

Was that voice in my head? That rich, deep voice?

Neither Ash or I moved … or blinked.

A cough.

Then another … louder … more insistent.

Ash leaned back into her chair, her face slowly changing from the absorbed look from moments before, to wield a mask of slight confusion, her eyes squinting slightly as she searched my face for answers.

'Ash?' That voice again. 'Have you forgotten our date?'

The sound of brakes screeching to a halt in my chest nearly deafened me. The room seemed to grow terribly small and I grew huge and very exposed. Ash just blinked once and broke our gaze. Her eyes swung around to rest on the person standing next to our table.

'Ben. Hi.' My eyes followed hers, and took in the tall man standing, and slightly leaning towards Ash. And like a female, I digested everything about him. The blonde hair … green eyes … the solid build of his body … the tight fitting t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Which kind of fit in nicely with the tightness of his jeans …

But it wasn't attraction I was feeling … not by a huge stretch of the imagination.

No.

It was something I wasn't used to. Never experienced before this moment.

It was jealousy. The anger at being interrupted I had felt before. But jealousy? Definitely a new sensation, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't like the way it made me feel.

I sat there and watched him lean over me and kiss Ash on the mouth … on her lips … in front of me … on the lips. The kiss was featherlike, and lasted all of a split second, but I felt it … and not in a nice way.

Ben still leaned across in front of me, and tried to stroke the side of Ash's face, but I saw her pull back, only slightly, but she did pull back. I felt a smirk flit across my lips and had the urge to stick my tongue out at his back. Either he didn't notice, or he was trying to ignore it.

'This is Lou … a very good friend of mine. Ben … say hello.' He turned his head around to look at me … but his eyes only rested briefly on my face as they travelled slowly down my body, only to rest on my breasts and then travel back up to my face again. I felt like I had been visibly undressed … almost an optical rape. Whatever did Ash see in a wanker like that?

'Well … hello there.' What a creep. He stuck his hand into my face and I lifted mine in greeting - I was well trained after all. Then the slimy fucker kissed me on the knuckles. I wanted to backhand right across the mouth. Instead I ripped my hand away from his lips and gave him a look that could pickle testicles.

Ash looked at me, and I'm sure I saw the remnants of a smile flicker across her face, but she didn't say anything.

'Feisty little creature aren't you.' God … could this bloke be anymore like a twat? 'I like feisty.'

Yes. He could.

'Glad you two have met.' That flicker again. 'I was just asking Lou to join us tonight.' Her face turned to me in question, and I was just about to refuse when I spotted a fleeting look of pleading swipe across Ash's face.

'I'd love to.'

Where on earth had that come from? I didn't want to spend my evening being leered at by this jerk.

But I did want to spend the evening with Ash.

And that is what it all boils down to isn't it?

The smile she bestowed on me actually illuminated the whole room. Whatever doubts I harboured were all sent whistling into the wind.

Not the experience you were expecting, is it? No. Well I haven't got to that part yet … give me time.

**************************************************************

We arranged to meet inside the Student's Union at seven thirty, and at seven fifteen, I was nervously waiting outside, plucking up the courage just to go in.

For the tenth time I smoothed down my top and ran my hands along my jeans. For the tenth time I licked my lips bringing them to shine. For the tenth time I tried to make my breathing slow down, as I imitated a cross between an asthma attack and a panic attack.

And a little bit of hyperventilating for good measure.

Finally, I entered the lobby to be greeted by the smell of pot. As it drifted up my nose, images of me sprawled on the floor, after falling off the stage, danced about in my head.

I felt my face burn up. Christ … it had only been two weeks ago. I hoped no one would remember …

'Look … it's Agnetha!'

Shit.

I felt my face burn again, and smiled weakly at the group of lads seated around the stage. The same group of lads who I had landed on two weeks previously.

I think.

I made my way to the bar and tried to hide in the darkest corner. Hopefully my face would return to a more natural sheen after I had been served my coke by the truly inept bartender who was more likely better equipped to serve chips in Mac Donald's … or not … as he would definitely fail the health and hygiene test.

After securing my drink, and pushing drunken students off me, I scanned the room looking for Ash. It was dark and smoky, and my eyes worked hard acclimatising to the gloom, especially because the bar area was bright enough to nearly cause a tan.

I could feel her rather than see her. Feel her eyes on me.

Slowly I turned to look behind me. And there she was … half standing, as if she had just started to get up from her chair. Her eyes focused straight on me and she looked dazed for some reason. Ben, the dickhead, was next to her, but when he went to grab her hand, she pulled it sharply away from him … her eyes never leaving mine.

It felt weird. Tingles spread up my spine, and for some reason I was beginning to become uncomfortable. So, I waved at her.

No response.

I waved again.

Still no response.

So I began to walk over, feeling a little self-conscious by this point, but pasting a smile on my face to hide the tumultuous emotions racing around inside. I couldn't understand why my heart was roaring inside my chest so loudly I believed everyone could hear it.

Then I saw her shake her head … just a little shake … but a shake nevertheless. Her eyes lost the glassiness and began to squint a little. It was my cue to make contact … so … I waved again and did the cheesy 'Hi' thing.

This time her face broke out into a grin and I smiled in return, the uncomfortable feeling disappearing, but it was replaced with a feeling of excitement as I approached the table. Ben was eyeing me up and down and I wanted to tell him to fuck off … but evidently, I'm too much of a lady.

It wasn't until I actually reached the table that I realised the other people around it were Stephen and Tracy. Shit. I liked Stephen … but Tracy? Christ … could my night get any worse.

**************************************************************

It was fun. Well … for the most part anyway. I enjoyed being in Ash and Stephen's company, but little could be said about the other two. Ben was an out and out wanker … I couldn't see what Ash saw in him. All he did all night was hit on girls in the bar. Funny thing was, Ash didn't seem to mind! I'd have gone bonkers.

As for Tracy … well you know my views on her. She is what is commonly known as a 'Twattette', and spent most of the evening glaring in my direction whilst sipping a Pernod and black. How common. She didn't even realise she had red lines up the side of her face (made by the blackcurrant as she drank) making her look like either the Joker or the Count from Sesame Street.

Funny … nobody could be arsed telling her. She sat there like Lady Muck from Turd Hall thinking she was something she most certainly wasn't, looking for all the world like she would suddenly shout out 'One Pernod and black ahahahah … Two Pernod and blacks …' You get the message.

It's a pity she didn't.

And I for one most certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell her. I know … but honestly … would you?

It wasn't until the end of the night that the experience happened … remember … the one I threatened you with earlier.

I had just gone to the phone booth to call my parents to say I would be leaving in about twenty minutes and would be on the next bus home, when it all kicked off.

I should have seen it coming, but I didn't.

I should have known she would do something, but let's put it down to the innocence of youth … or just plain stupidity.

And I should have been paying attention instead of rummaging around in my purse looking for change for the bus.

Silly me.

'Think you're so fucking clever don't you?' Tracy. 'I bet you were laughing at me all night?' She came out of the shadows and came closer to me; her face was devoid of blackcurrant by now. 'I'll fucking teach you.'

Smack!

In retrospect I should have ducked. In retrospect … I should have smacked her back … but I didn't.

Do you know why?

No?

I didn't smack her back because I didn't have to.

Ash did.

Right in her blackcurrant gobbling mouth.

Now for the embarrassing thing …

'Why the fuck did you do that? I don't need you to fight my battles!'

Ash looked stunned … more stunned than Tracy, who was on the floor nursing her face by this point. 'But I …'

'But you what? Think I can't look after myself?'

The bar had gone completely quiet, and I knew people were staring at us … at me in particular. Someone came up behind me and I felt my whole body tense. A deep male voice spoke firmly into my ear. 'I think it is time to go, love.'

It was the bouncer. And he didn't sound pleased, and neither was I for that matter. I was getting kicked out for doing absolutely nothing, whilst Tracy was being helped up by a member of staff and Ash just stared at me, her face pale.

'But I didn't do anything …' My voice sounded whining even to my ears.

'It doesn't matter, love … it's for the best.'

Ash tried to interrupt and tell them what had happened, but I rounded on her, the tone definitely one of anger.

'Look! However hard it is to believe … I've grown up, Ash … I'm not a child anymore for Christ's sake.'

With that, I turned and marched away, but not before I heard Ash mumble something. I don't know what she meant, or even if I heard right, but it sounded like 'I've noticed.'

It's a pity she only figured that out when I had given her a mouthful.

**************************************************************

Chapter Ten

I spent the whole of Saturday kicking myself … and wishing I was kicking Tracy instead.

I was at work … the crappiest job this side of the Pennines. I worked as an assistant on Stockport market, serving cooked meats. It wasn't the cooked meats that were disgusting … it was the smell of the indoor market.

Fuck me. It was gross.

Imagine the smell of curdled milk mixed with the smell of a cow's stomach lining. Yep … totally disgusting. Inside the market cheese, tripe, eggs, and cooked meats were served to people who obviously had no sense of smell. It always took me at least thirty minutes to acclimatize myself to it, and this was only my second Saturday.

I worked with six other girls and one lad who was solely in charge of the meat slicer. Very glamorous. It was a long day, nine and a half hours on our feet, and we only got half hour for lunch, which we took in pairs.

I got on with most of the girls, but one girl, Sarah, really stood out from the crowd. Strangely enough, she had taken me under her wing, and for the two weeks I had worked there, we had taken our dinner together.

As I said before, I was pissed off, and Sarah noticed. She kept on asking if I was okay … if I wanted to talk about it. Each time I turned her down … I was just angry about things … about Tracy … about Ash. All this in between serving people whose main concern was how much sliced ham they would need for Sunday tea.

Lunchtime couldn't come quick enough, and I grabbed my sandwich and bottle of orange, and made my way to the locker room to get out of my overall … which by this time stunk to high heaven of sour milk and fat.

Sarah was right behind me, and neither of us said a word as we made our way into St Mary's churchyard, where we ate our lunch and looked over Stockport.

It was amazing how quiet it was there. We were completely on our own as we munched our lunch and stared over the hills, the rest of the market din was like a distant memory.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Sarah's voice was low, almost non-existent. And if I hadn't be looking at her at the time I would have missed it entirely.

'There's nothing to tell.'

Sarah looked up from her sandwich and into my eyes. She had blue eyes … a little like Ash's … but darker. I felt an ache skip across my chest, and without thinking raised my hand to it and rubbed, all the while staring into Sarah's eyes.

I can't tell you how long we just looked at each other … but it was as if I was transfixed by the blueness.

'Are you free tonight?' A pause before she continued. 'I was wondering if you fancied going to the pictures or something.' I still held her gaze, and nearly a minute went by before …

'I'd love to.' My voice seemed distant. Almost as distant as the sounds of the market.

A smile broke out on her face and mine followed suit. 'We'd better get back before they send out a search party.'

I nodded, scrunched up my sandwich wrapper before finishing the last dregs of my orange, stood up and waited for Sarah to join me.

I was still annoyed about last night, and I hadn't heard from Ash … but … I had a feeling tonight was going to be more interesting.

********************************************************

I met Sarah outside the pictures at 7 pm. We were going to see A Nightmare on Elm Street, which was an 18, and I was only sixteen (nearly seventeen though). Sarah was okay, as she had turned eighteen in July.

There wasn't a problem getting in, as the boy on the desk looked younger than me … and his acne … I won't go there in case you're eating.

We made our way into the darkened cinema, the adverts were blaring out Pearl and Dean's memorable tune, as adverts flashed on and off the screen promoting a mixture of crap and shite … in that order.

I did a double take as Sarah struggled along the back row, past all of the teenagers who were already snogging before the main feature began, but I just followed behind her, whispering 'Excuse mes' and 'Sorrys' as I tripped over extended legs, trying to duck at the same time. It was not as if they were actually watching the film … but I felt a little unnerved to say the least.

Finally, Sarah settled into a chair that had a couple of empty chairs around us, and she patted the seat next to her, her blue eyes glowing in reflection of the lights from the screen. I think she knew I was going to sit in the chair that would leave an empty one between us. Don't ask me why … I just … felt … like … I should for some reason or another.

Before long, the film was underway. And I was not happy. Freddy Krueger frightened the shit out of me … and not just because of his exceptionally bad taste in stripy tops either. I felt the fear of the characters grip me around the throat, and was scared I was going to fall asleep later and see the melted faced freak coming at me. Sarah seemed cool about all the blood, and asked if I was all right on more than one occasion.

As it approached the end, and nearly all of the characters had copped their lot in one way or another, I could feel the fear climbing up my throat. I had never been one for scary movies, and this was in a class of its own on the fear factor. Seeing the young lad trying to escape something that, to me, seemed inescapable, was playing on my nerves. It took me quite a while to realise I was actually holding Sarah's hand.

The only reason how I realised I was, was the way she smiled at me, and raised an eyebrow when I turned to see her reaction to a particularly gruesome bit. My face must have showed confusion, as she nodded to where my hand was resting on her thigh, totally ensconced in her own.

I looked back at her and was just about to apologise and pull away, when she smiled at me, moved closer until she was firmly pressed against my side, and began to stroke the back of my hand with her thumb. I should have felt disgusted … a woman was holding my hand, and not in a way friends would usually hold each other's hands, if you know what I mean.

However, I wasn't disgusted. Far from it in fact. I felt a growing excitement build in my gut … the same excitement I felt every time I thought of Ash … and her smile … and her eyes.

Shit … I didn't know what this meant. Was I gay then? A lesbian?

But I had never …

Me? Gay? A lezza? A dyke? A queer?

Nah … I wasn't one of those … was I? I had been with lads, not … erm … like … all the way … you know … but I did fancy lads … didn't I?

'Are you all right, Lou?' Sarah's face was close to mine and I had an urge to kiss her … on her mouth … her lips … taste her lipstick … slip my tongue … fuck.

'Ahem … yeah … yeah … fine.' My face was incandescent. I could feel the glow race around my body, shouting to all who were listening 'Lou's a lezza! Lou's a lezza!'

'Why are you sitting forward like that? Sit back … come on … enjoy it.'

What? Enjoy what? Shit! Did she know? Fuck! Was she a lezza too?

As these thoughts trotted around my mind, going to every corner of that grey matter asking for directions, I could feel Sarah's arm sneaking around my back. I could also feel myself stiffen at her touch.

'Hey, Lou … it's okay … it's okay …' Her voice was soothing … sweet and soft … and I drifted back into my seat, with her arm around my shoulders and her hand in mine.

We sat this way until the end credits, which by this stage came all too soon.

********************************************************

Sarah had her own car, and had passed her test in the summer. It wasn't anything special, just a old Mini, but at least she had transport. When she asked if I would like a lift home, doubt flooded my mind once again.

Did I want to get in the car … alone … with her? What if she … if I … if we …

Never mind. To cut a long story short, I got a lift. Sarah was easy to talk to, and we laughed a great deal on the way home. She was a student at Manchester Uni, and she worked two jobs as well … one on the market, and one in a pub on a Thursday night. My expression must have said it all … how on earth could she work on a Thursday when she had to get up for Uni?

She explained student life at the higher level was less demanding. More focus was placed on independent learning, and students didn't have to be there all the time.

And the added bonus was … she never mentioned the hand holding incident … or the arm around my shoulders. But … I honestly didn't know my arse from my elbow by the time we reached the top of my road. Not that I usually do … but still … I was becoming confused.

She pulled up on the side road, as my house was on a corner, and turned her ignition off. If you had been there I guarantee you would have heard my heart rate build up and up and up. The silence in the car was making screeching noises … and was finally put in its place by the thudding in my chest … gut … and maybe even a little bit lower. The blood gushing in my ears was beginning to become a problem, especially when I had to ask Sarah to repeat what she had just said.

A sheepish smile flittered across her face, and she cast her eyes down to her lap before raising them to meet my own.

'I said … I've had a lovely night tonight … and thank you.' The smile danced along the corners of her lips … not a crooked one … but still quite charming in its own way.

'Same here …'

'Could we … would you … erm … like to do it again … erm … sometime?' Why was she so nervous, said me, who had an entire butterfly collection fluttering around in my gut?

'I'd love to.' Her face broke out into a grin and she bit her lip whilst bobbing her head up and down …

'Good … good …' I just watched her, transfixed by this woman seated next to me, watching the lights from the street lamps do wonders with her eyes … making them glisten and sparkle … although they didn't twinkle … I had only ever met one person who's eyes twinkled.

But this is not the time to be thinking about her, is it?

I was sat in a car with Sarah. Not Ash. Sarah.

I looked at her, sat there, staring ahead at the quiet road and really digested this girl who was here with me. She was pretty … very pretty in fact. Her hair was darker in this light, but it was usually a dark brown. Her face had an angelic quality; her skin smooth and clear. Her lips, although slightly parted, still held a slight plumpness … and looked soft … and tender.

Shit. I was a lezza. Why else would I be thinking about how soft and tender her lips were?

Crap. That's all I needed.

But she was so pretty …

My thoughts were interrupted by a movement … from Sarah. She had turned herself to face me, and her expression held a question. Obviously, being a wuss, I thought this was the time to make my excuses and leave.

'Well … I had best get gone. I've really enjoyed myself tonight.'

'Lou?' Her voice stopped my escape, and I turned to look at her once again. 'I've had a lovely time tonight … really lovely. In fact …'

At this point, she leaned towards me, and I leaned back on the door, willing it to open and let me out. I saw her come closer and then …pull back, her face seemed to show the confusion I was feeling. All my senses were in overdrive. I could smell her perfume: it was intoxicating. I could hear my blood whistling through my veins, racing to parts that shall be left unmentioned.

And I could see this situation getting out of hand if I didn't do something … and quick.

So I did.

I leaned forward and planted my lips to hers, quite clumsily at first, and I think I took her by surprise … and that made the both of us. I could taste her lipstick in my mouth as I kissed her … and it tasted so much better than when I tasted it on myself.

When the surprise wore off, I could feel her responding to me, and I followed suit, our mouths moving against each other's in a steady rhythm. I could feel her hand stroking the side of my head, so I lifted my hand and started doing the same. Then she tangled her fingers into my hair and I felt a groan leave my stomach and race upwards to burst out of my mouth and into hers.

She moaned back, and then slipped a very inquisitive tongue into my mouth.

Now this was the first time I had ever kissed a woman. Ever. And I had never thought about kissing another woman. Ever … or … had I? This wasn't the time to start questioning what I had or hadn't thought. I was kissing a woman, in the front seat of her car, parked outside my house on a Saturday night … and I was thoroughly enjoying it.

Her lips were so soft … softer than I thought they'd be … and they had looked soft. Her tongue was gently probing inside my mouth and I couldn't help but suck it in. It was getting deeper and deeper. I was falling deeper and deeper into the kiss, the outside world was leaving me behind as I pushed myself into her and felt her do the same.

Sensations bulldozed through me. The feeling of kissing another woman was totally mind blowing and I could feel a definite tingle between my legs; a pooling of want forming there and begged to be assuaged.

Why … I don't know. All I knew was I was feeling liberation from the inside out … and I felt completely under its spell. Until …

Until she moved her free hand and delicately stroked the outside of my breast.

That stopped me.

I pulled back sharply, and looked at her … her hand was still in my hair … her eyes closed … lips slightly parted emitting short pants as she waited … and waited for me to continue.

'Sarah … I …' Blue eyes slipped open and glassily focused on me, and I could see desire burning behind them. 'I … well … I …'

Her fingers left the safety of my hair and she trailed them down my cheek and across my lips. 'Shush … Lou … it's okay … we don't have to do anything you are uncomfortable with.' Her voice was deeper than earlier, almost smoky. I felt the stab in my groin once again and gently kissed one finger, and then another … then another … then I slipped one into my mouth and sucked.

The noise she made as I did this was enough to drench my underwear. A low moaning noise seeped from between those soft lips I had just tasted, and I suckled even harder. Her eyes drifted closed again and she leaned her head back exposing her throat.

I was definitely feeling more than confusion by this point … and it felt strangely good.

After what seemed like hour, but was more like seconds, I let her finger free and she trailed the wetness around my mouth before delicately brushing her lips across mine again.

I breathed in. Quite fiercely, and opened my eyes to look her in the face once again. 'I'd best get in … I should have been home ages ago.'

Why did I lie? It was only 10:30 and I wasn't expected back before 11:30.

Sarah didn't say a word … just nodded acceptance and looked kind of sheepish.

'Okay then … night.' I leaned to open the door and her hand stopped me.

'Can I see you again?' Her voice held a quiet pleading quality that aimed straight at my heart. I nodded and sat back in the seat to scrabble around my bag searching for a scrap of paper and something to write with.

After writing my phone number down, I shot out of the car, round the corner and into my front door without as much as a backward glance, and then felt like a right baggage for not even waving to the girl I had just kissed minutes before.

I didn't even wait to see her turn the engine back on … make sure she was okay … nothing … I was like Zola Budd on Speed.
**************************************************************

Jo and my parents were seated around the telly watching a really dodgy black and white horror film on BBC2 - The Curse of the Mummy with Boris Karloff,. My only greeting was an eye flicker and a nod from my parents and the finger signal and a grin from Jo, who was sprawled with her legs up the wall and her head hanging off the chair. Perfect film watching position.

As I stood there, I felt totally exposed. It was as if everyone knew I had just made out with a woman mere feet away, although they'd need good eyesight so see through nine-inch brick. This feeling of exposure punctured the excitement I had been feeling, and I could feel it draining away.

'Ash came round looking for you earlier.'

'What?' I wanted to swear, but I doubted my parents would appreciate it. 'When? What time?'

Jo sat up on her chair, looking twisted and very uncomfortable, and turned to face me. 'Erm … about … 8:30 … and then again at about ten.'

'Ten! But it's only 10:40 now!' I don't know why I shouted out the time … it just felt right for some reason or another. Jo looked confused at my reaction, but just shook her head and laid back down into sprawl position. 'What did she say?' I tried to keep my breathing under control. Ash had been here and I had been out with Sarah … kissing Sarah just round the corner … and we would have been there about 10:15.

Shit.

What if Ash saw us in Sarah's car?

Shit.

Me making out with a woman.

Shit. What to do? What to do?

'Just asked if you were in and what time you would be back … not much else.'

'Where did you say I had gone?'

'Where you went of course. To the flicks with that girl you work with … Sarah is it?'

I nodded, as I was unable to speak. My throat had dried up big time and I felt the wind leave my sails. I turned and left.

Upstairs in my room, I turned on the record player and aimed the needle half way across the vinyl. Alison Moyet's voice drifted softly around …

All I ever needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day …

I felt depressed. All the new feelings disappeared completely, and I didn't even have the energy to beat myself up about what had happened earlier. All I could think about was I had missed Ash … twice. And that she might have seen me with another girl.

Kissing.

Crap.

This was not good. What if she got the wrong idea about me? Thought I went around kissing girls?

But I do.

Not all of the time.

And? Your point is?

This was getting me nowhere. I was arguing with myself and I didn't have any answers. My opinions were trite and contradictory and I was getting on my own nerves.

Next thing I knew I was standing in the front room in front of the telly. My parents were not impressed that they were missing the end of the film.

'What else did she say? Does she want me to call her?'

'For God's sake, Lou …shift!' I sidled to one side, leaving enough room for both my mum and dad to see the telly, but completely blocking it from Jo's view. I heard her tutt before she raised her eyes from the direction of the TV, rolling them for effect.

'Said something about catching you later. Give you a ring tomorrow or you ring her or something.' I think my expression said it all, and she tutted again. 'She'll ring you tomorrow morning … okay? Now shift your backside.'

A smile lit my face. Ash was going to call me tomorrow. I might even get to see her.

I turned to go to bed, nearly skipping. And then it hit me. What if she had seen me? What would I say? What about Sarah?

The life of a teenager, eh? Wouldn't trade places for all the tea in China.

**************************************************************


Chapter Eleven

I lay on top of my bed staring at the ceiling, arms behind my head, my body giving the impression of being relaxed, when inside I was tighter than a drum.

Thoughts flitted through my mind, and I was only given brief glimpses of what it wanted me to concentrate on … and it was starting to make me feel rather sick. Names and faces zoomed in and out … in and out … and I was becoming more perplexed by the minute.

Images of my clinch with Sarah was vying for first place with the image of Ash's gaunt look at the Students Union on Friday night after I had shouted at her.

Ash had come looking for me … twice. Come round to my house … twice … looking for me, whilst I was out getting it on with another woman.

A groan left me … not a pleasurable groan like what had happened in the car. God no. This one was a groan of pain … of confusion … of not being able to grasp what was happening to me. My arm came in front of my face believing it could block out the images my overzealous brain was conjuring up. Hot breath soaked through the material of my shirt and landed on my arm, as my breathing became more and more laboured the more I thought about what I had done.

I didn't like it … but I did like it … I didn't … yet …I did. I had no concept of what being a lesbian was all about … and I couldn't classify what it entailed. All I could muster were images of women who dressed like men, acted like men and slept with other women who looked like men, dressed like men and acted like men.

Yep. Totally naοve. I didn't realise then, lesbians didn't have to be categorised into the stereotypical interpretation most people still put on us lady lovers.

Funny thing was, Sarah didn't fit into this 'type' … she was absolutely stunning … and all woman. She dressed feminine; spoke feminine, smelled, tasted, felt feminine. God … was she feminine …

I felt moisture puddle once again between my legs, as I thought about the kisses we had shared in the front seat of her car.

A thought drifted into my head … almost like a voice from somewhere else … from someone else. It was calming, soothing, pliant and nourishing. A thought. An idea. A concept drilled together by want and guilt. Words welded into sense by feeling and desire … an option than blanketed the reality of my confusion with a promise of experience versus fantasy.

Being with a woman was a fantasy … a dream that had been so deeply embedded within me I failed to notice its existence. Until now … until Sarah.

With a deep breath, I came to some sort of understanding. I would try this discovery … taste it … mould it … feel it and embrace it. If it wasn't for me, it wasn't for me. But I had tried it … tried Sarah … tried this new and wonderful gift that had stepped into my path.

Maybe I would understand it more if I he