Love's Cold Burn Page 7

  As he turned towards the exit, he saw a familiar face. It was Black Lips, the girl he had almost met at the cigarette machine he smashed to the ground up at the bonfire on Southside Common. He always carried a lighter in case he met a girl who smoked. Black Lips reached for her cigarettes and Brian rushed over.

  ‘Can I light that for you?’

  She recognised him immediately. ‘Thanks.’ She leant towards him half smiling without opening her lips, which gripped the cigarette. Her face glowed from the light of the flickering flame. As the tip burned red, her eyes turned to Brian’s. ‘You’re not going to break anything are you?’

  ‘Only your heart if you let me,’ Brian joked with a big cheeky smile, but, half wondering if it was too much, added, ‘sorry. Only joking. I’m on my best behaviour.’

  She didn’t reply, but they held eye contact for a while, both still smiling before she asked, ‘what’s your name?’

  ‘Brian Hill. And yours?’

  ‘Lisa Wentworth-Simpson.’

  Brian moved his lips in response but nothing came out. He couldn’t think of a reply that recognised that she had an unusual name, which was a little inconsistent with her rebellious appearance, while at the same time hiding the obvious amusement that he felt, also due to the inconsistency between her name and her appearance.

  She helped him out. ‘I don’t look like a Wentworth-Simpson do I?’

  Brian raised his eyebrows in agreement.

  ‘Just pretend I said Lisa Evans or Lisa Jones and continue.’ She was toying with him, but quite liked him. On previous occasions she had been irritated by the response she got to her upmarket name, but black clothes and heavy make-up can’t hide your background. She worked for a large insurance company, which was one of the main employers in Southside. Her family didn’t own the company but it did lease the premises to them. A significant portion of the town centre had been owned by the Wentworth-Simpson family since before the First World War.

  Brian still had no follow-up comment, but felt that he was being warmly received so invited her to dance. She gladly accepted. The Goths were all very cool and didn’t move much on the dance floor. It wasn’t the done thing. Brian didn’t care what the done thing was and he had fun bouncing all over the place. Lisa was very amused but slightly embarrassed as she was among Goth friends.

  ‘Do you want to go for some chips?’ she asked. It would get her away from the judging gaze of her friends while at the same time continuing her encounter with what she considered a very amusing, carefree, fun-loving young man.

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Brian, who thought it would be a good chance to get Black Lips a little closer to his bedroom and away from her weirdo friends.

  They got chips round the corner from John’s Passage and walked up to the bandstand on the edge of Southside Common near the crazy golf. It was a popular place for young couples to meet but they were the only visitors. Monday night was not a busy night out for anyone other than the students taking advantage of the cheap beer at The Skin Shop.

  ‘Do you still live with your parents?’ Brian asked, remembering his brother’s advice that he must take a genuine interest in girls he met. He was also remembering to look at her face and not her body.

  ‘I have very little to do with my parents,’ Lisa replied. ‘We get on very well, but we see things differently.’ She paused, starting to feel uneasy about the subject. She did live with them and loved them very much, but preferred not to be seen as part of a wealthy family. She wanted to be seen as an individual with pioneering ideas who had something to say that was worth listening to, fresh and relevant. ‘Actually, I prefer not to talk about my parents, if you don’t mind. How about you? Do you live with your parents?’

  Brian was equally uncomfortable talking about his parents. Brian and Lisa were very different in many ways, but, strangely, their shared reluctance to talk about their parents, seemed to be the first thing that gave them a real affinity with each other beyond the obvious physical attraction.

  ‘No.’ Brian replied with a fixed gaze, focussed in the distance, but on nothing particular. She waited for a more thorough answer. He was looking for the right words. He wanted to be honest without giving too much away. ‘I have very little to do with my parents. Well, nothing at all really. Circumstances out of my control. I have a modest trust fund which takes care of my education and basic living. It’s paid direct into my bank account and that’s it.’

  She reached for his hand. It wasn’t sexual, but Brian happily took it. Despite his sordid instincts, he unexpectedly found himself appreciating the warmth of Lisa’s genuine concern, but added, ‘Actually, I also prefer not to talk about my parents. Do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all.’ And she didn’t. He felt the same way about his parents as she did about her own. It made her feel much better about her own stance. But she had no idea that, although he appeared to be taking a very similar position to her, it was for entirely different reasons.

  She put her arm around his shoulder and gave him an encouraging peck on the cheek. The conversation flowed and Brian took her back to his room for a coffee.

  By this time, Andrew Leopard had been in bed asleep for two hours having spent all evening thinking about Pink Socks, worrying about his spot and worrying even more about whether his friends Tom and Brian were enjoying their night out with Colin, Hugh and Ian. His peace was shattered as Hugh smashed his fist on Andrew’s door. Andrew didn’t just wake up quickly, he physically jumped. His heart was racing. Hugh’s fist continued to bang loudly on his door as he shouted, ‘my key won’t work. What’s wrong with this door? I want to go to bed.’

  Andrew dared not open the door, or even turn on the light. He didn’t want Hugh to know he was definitely in bed asleep, but he couldn’t think what he wanted at this time of night. His heart continued pounding. Then there was a thud and a high pitched yelp, which didn’t sound like Hugh. But it was. Hugh had fallen over in a drunken heap and banged his head on the painted concrete block wall. He was a large young man, who liked to be seen as a thug, but he was not good with pain and yelped like a girl.

  Colin stepped over his flaccid body and took the key out of his hand. ‘Wrong room mate.’ He went down the corridor and opened Hugh’s door. Andrew half heard Colin struggling to drag his friend along the corridor. His heart rate slowed down a little as he realised the danger had passed, then as he was almost asleep again, he heard a girl’s voice followed by Brian’s voice. He couldn’t hear anybody else and he couldn’t tell what they were saying, but they were laughing a lot. He eventually fell back into a deep sleep with dreamy images filling his head of himself and Pink Socks arriving back from The Skin Shop laughing and joking as they walked past Brian’s closed door.

  Chapter 13

  Don’t tell Hugh

  Two days later, November 16, 1983: Andrew Leopard and Tom and Brian Hill gathered their books after a sociology tutorial, a small discussion group intended to compliment ideas learned in lectures. The three boys had added nothing to the debate, which dealt with Malthus and his theory of natural corrections in world population. They had all been thinking about the trip to The Skin Shop two nights earlier; Andrew because he thought he had missed out, Tom because he had enjoyed spending time with Greenpeace Badge and Brian because he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see Lisa Wentworth-Simpson again.

  It was a Wednesday and that meant no lectures in the afternoon, which was set aside for sporting pursuits. Tom and Brian were playing an away football fixture at Westside University and Andrew was going into town to do the food shopping. They had very little food between them and agreed to visit the refectory for lunch.

  It was a large dining hall the size of a tennis court, where students and teaching staff mixed comfortably. The food was partially subsidised and very basic, but was still a treat on the budget of most students. Tom and Brian considered it a reasonable treat considering they needed plenty of energy for their game. The match against Westside University was the local derby
and a crunch game in the regional section of the national university cup competition.

  They sat in a corner by the window, Tom and Andrew happy but Brian disgusted at the mess on the table, which he thought should have been cleaned up by the canteen staff. ‘It wouldn’t take much to wipe the table,’ he said frowning.

  ‘It’s so busy, we’re lucky to get a table. Besides, if they had enough staff to wipe all the tables straight away, we would have to pay more and couldn’t afford to eat here,’ Tom replied.

  ‘It’s only a few crumbs … it is,’ added Andrew.

  Brian used his paper napkin to wipe the area immediately around his plate. Tom changed the subject to stop his complaining.

  ‘You still haven’t told us how you got on with Black Lips.’

  Brian had been holding back the details, because there hadn’t been as much to tell as he had hoped. ‘Okay. There’s not much to tell. We rolled around a bit but the clothes stayed on.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that? Sounds like an excellent start to me.’ Tom was disappointed by his brother’s lack of patience.

  ‘That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a start. You know me. I just wanted a shag.’

  Andrew, who still hadn’t progressed as far as getting Pink Socks’ real name, offered his support. ‘That’s excellent progress … it is. When are you seeing her again?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing. I’ve invited her to the Drag Disco on Friday, but I don’t want a steady girlfriend. I came to college to have fun, not to build a steady relationship. A quick shag’s alright, but that’s it.’

  Andrew couldn’t understand Brian’s attitude. What Brian didn’t want was exactly what Andrew did want.

  Tom did understand, but thought differently. ‘I think you’re a wally. She looked quite nice, and, from what you’ve said about her, she seems very good company. I’m looking forward to meeting her on Friday. Have you got your dress ready yet?’

  ‘Pretty much. I’ll get it sorted after football.’

  ‘I got a dress in a charity shop … I did,’ Andrew added.

  Four hours later, Andrew was in great pain. Not from trying his dress on, but from doing the shopping. He carried six heavy carrier bags packed with groceries half a mile from the supermarket in the shopping centre and it felt as if they were pulling his arms off. He struggled up the stairs, along the corridor and into the kitchen, where, much to his disappointment he found Hugh.

  ‘What have you bought me Leopard?’ Hugh demanded with menace.

  ‘There’s nothing for you … nothing,’ Andrew replied nervously.

  ‘No problem. I’ve just eaten.’ The menace went all of a sudden and Hugh seemed almost pleasant.

  Roger Evans came in and made a sandwich.

  ‘How’s it going Crypt?’ Hugh’s tone was still pleasant, even if his choice of words wasn’t.

  Roger didn’t reply or look round or even flinch for the slightest moment in his food preparation.

  Hugh tried again to trigger a reaction. ‘You seen the student from room number one yet Crypt?’

  Again no response. Roger finished eating, returned his pots to his cardboard box and left the room.

  Andrew had been grateful that Roger had distracted Hugh’s attention from him and had busied himself putting the new supplies away. He got up to leave.

  ‘That’s quite a spot you’ve got there Leopard.’ Andrew was almost at the door but stopped, wondering how best to react. Hugh hadn’t been aggressive, but again, his choice of words was unkind.

  Andrew turned around to face Hugh. ‘Yes. Quite a spot, but not as big as it was two days ago … it’s not.’

  ‘It doesn’t look too bad. Is that the reason you have been staying in your room so much this week?’ Hugh was guessing but had a fair idea that he was right.

  ‘I haven’t. I’ve been working hard … I have.’

  ‘Well Andrew. I don’t believe you. I think you’ve been hiding.’ Hugh could see Andrew felt awkward.

  Andrew did feel awkward; partly because it was the first time Hugh had addressed him by his first name, he was a terrible liar and just wanted to get back to his room fast. ‘I have to go … I do.’

  ‘See you later Andrew,’ Hugh replied, still in an uncharacteristic soft tone.

  Andrew felt relieved and reached for the door handle, pulled it open and set off to his room. Two steps later and before the kitchen door had fully shut behind him, Hugh shouted ‘Andrew’.

  He stopped and swallowed with a slight feeling of fear. Hugh being horrible was unpleasant, but Hugh being nice was a new situation which could be hard to handle. He turned back and stuck his head around the door. ‘Yes Hugh.’

  ‘I’m just about to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?’

  Saying no would be a big insult.

  ‘Thank-you. That’s very kind … very kind.’

  Hugh prepared two cups of tea, then opened the kitchen door. ‘Let’s take them to my room Andrew.’

  Andrew followed Hugh to room number eight. It was much tidier than he had expected. Hugh may have treated the communal areas of Dickens Court with a total lack of respect, but his room was immaculate. There was a large Chinese-looking piece of fabric covering the largest wall featuring an emerald green lizard on a gold background. Andrew recognised it as the same design tattooed above Hugh’s ear. On the opposite wall was a row of black and white pictures, all the same size, probably A4, each showing the face of a punk rocker. They were all as high as the ceiling and equally spaced. Sid Vicious, Hugh Cornwell, Johnny Rotten, Captain Sensible and Joe Strummer were all featured. On the floor, there was a thick Oriental rug, with rich metallic colours, very similar to the lizard embroidery on the wall.

  For a moment, Andrew forgot his fear, mesmerised by the room, full of surprises that he would never have expected from a thug like Hugh.

  ‘Have a seat Andrew.’ Hugh waved his arm towards the soft chair by the wardrobe. ‘Biscuit?’ He held a tin towards Andrew, who was feeling more relaxed than he could have hoped.

  ‘Thanks. You have a nice room … you have.’ Not relaxed enough to lose the echo.

  ‘You’re very kind.’ Hugh replied gently. ‘I enjoyed my first year here at Southside. The courses were fairly easy after A-levels. How are you finding it?’

  ‘Not so bad thanks. Probably a bit easier than A-levels … a bit easier.’

  ‘I think they make the first year easier so students can adjust more easily to a new way of life away from home.’ Hugh had gained Andrew’s trust.

  ‘You might be right … you might.’

  Hugh offered Andrew another biscuit. ‘Are you adjusting well? Missing anyone at home?’

  Andrew was not adjusting as well as he had hoped. He missed his mother and, despite the issues he had with his father, had missed him too, much to his disgust. He was almost angry with himself for missing someone who firmly believed that he would ‘never amount to anything’. Hugh seemed to understand what Andrew was feeling. Maybe he would have some good advice. He took another bite of his digestive.

  ‘Yes. I miss people … I do.’

  ‘Go on,’ Hugh encouraged him.

  But Andrew thought he should save such thoughts for Tom, who he held in the highest regard and trusted totally, unlike Hugh. He changed direction quickly. ‘Yes. I miss people, but I am starting to adjust … I am.’

  Hugh thought he had been close to some sensitive secrets but followed the change of direction. ‘And is there anybody special here at university? Anybody who helps fills the gaps left by those back home?’

  Andrew didn’t want to tell Hugh how much of a rock Tom had been, but thought he could safely mention Pink Socks. Hugh seemed to be nicer than he had expected and maybe he could help. ‘There is a girl I’m very fond of … I am.’

  Hugh’s eyes lit up. He was getting somewhere now. ‘And what’s her name?’ he asked casually, reaching for another biscuit.

  ‘Well. I don’t know. I haven’t asked her yet … I haven’t.
’

  Hugh disguised his amusement and pushed for more details. ‘If you don’t even know her name, how can you be so fond of her?’

  ‘She’s beautiful and has a kind smile. You can see how considerate she is by the way she talks to her friends and she laughs a lot … she does.’

  ‘It sounds to me like you are more than fond of … what was her name again?’

  ‘Pink Socks.’

  ‘Pink Socks?’

  ‘She had pink socks on the first time I saw her and that’s what I call her … I do.’

  ‘So. As I was saying. It sounds to me like you are more than “fond” of Pink Socks.”

  Andrew hadn’t even told Tom yet that he loved Pink Socks, but he felt he could tell Hugh.

  ‘Please don’t tell anyone, but, yes, you’re right. More than fond. I love her. I love Pink Socks.’

  Hugh was now struggling to hide his amusement and a smile crept across his face. ‘Marvellous. You’re in love. I do think you should ask her what her name is though.’ The sincerity was slipping.

  Andrew started to feel he had made a mistake and got up to leave. ‘Thanks for the tea. I must start cooking. Tom and Brian will be back soon. You won’t tell anyone will you … will you?’

  Hugh’s sneer returned as he assured Andrew his secret was safe and ushered him out of room eight.

  Andrew prepared sausages, which he grilled, mash, made from powdered potato, and spaghetti from a tin. As he was trying to squash the lumps of powder in the mash, the door flew open and the Hill brothers marched in triumphantly chanting football songs having narrowly beaten Westside University to qualify for the knockout stages of the national cup competition.

  Andrew felt a warm rush of camaraderie as both Tom and Brian kissed him on the cheek and lifted him off the ground as if they were raising the national cup. As they sat down to eat, Brian talked Andrew through his winning goal. Ian Mellor came in for his tea and Brian talked him through his winning goal. Roger Evans came in and Brian did the same again, but this time with no response at all. Hugh and Colin came in next and Brian started to talk them through his winning goal before Hugh stopped him.