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My feet ache from hours of aimless wandering through the park, up the river, down the ring road into town, out the other side past cafés and takeaways. Spending a fiver on a greasy kebab I didn’t want, binning most of it and wandering on out through the woods then cutting through suburban houses to the top entrance of the park again. I check the time: six o’clock. I start to head back to Ben’s, same old riff in my head as I go.
Fucking Useless Waste of Space. As if I was such a dickhead with Fran? Just when Grace said I could stay a while. I should go back home except it’s obvious Mum’s got it in for me. Clearly, I am a Number One Useless Fuck. I charge along the path literally kicking myself. Lose my balance and nearly knock a little girl off her bicycle.
‘Sorree!’ I hold my hands up to her glaring mum as I loop a wide curve away from them.
‘What’s wrong with that man?’ The girl’s perky voice.
‘I think he’s drunk too much.’ The sharp tone of the mum.
I wish! Perhaps Ben will go halves on some vodka?
Ben’s folks live in a small terrace round the back of the bus depot. His mum’s a childminder and the whole place is rammed with kids’ stuff. I can see Ben and his dad through the window sitting either side of a Fisher Price garage with toy cars scattered across the carpet. Ben waves me to come in; I squeeze through the gap between the door and the sofa and stand like an idiot.
‘Get them packed away, will you?’ Ben’s dad waves from his chair as Ben gets down on the floor, throwing cars into a plastic crate. ‘Make yourself a tea, Gethin, or there’s some of this stuff in the fridge.’ He points a can of Mango Rubicon at me.
‘Thanks,’ I smile at him. Ben’s dad, Rahim, is the nicest guy. Dead friendly and natural with you. I fetch a mango drink and make my way back to the sofa, literally aching for the chance to sit and chill for a bit.
‘We were just having a celebratory drink before Ben goes off to work in that club of his.’
‘Celebratory?’ I say, stupidly.
‘Last exam? Hello?’ Ben slings himself back on the sofa.
‘Yeah, sorry. It’s like, yesterday everyone started their A levels. What happened?’
‘It may have gone fast to you, but I assure you…?’ Ben mimics wiping sweat off his brow.
Feeling left out of the A level experience, is it? Out there! As if I wanted to be swotting and stressing with the rest of them.
‘So, you’re celebrating by going to work?’ is all I say.
‘Needs must.’ Ben shrugs.
‘Needs, my arse,’ Rahim retorts, and I smile at how mad that sounds in his Yorkshire Iranian accent. ‘He’s taking home more than the rest of us put together. Which isn’t hard with me earning zero.’
‘I pay my way,’ Ben says.
‘Oh, you know we’re grateful for it, Behnam.’ Rahim uses Ben’s full name, as if to show he’s serious. ‘But I need find something before you go to university.’ He pulls a worried smile. He’s a skinny guy with a fair amount of dark curly hair. But his deep-lined face underscores his age.
‘Dad was made redundant six months ago now,’ Ben says.
I nod, remembering him saying how Rahim was like a horticulture student in Iran, and part of the socialist opposition to the Shah. When he came here fleeing from the Ayatollah, he landed up working in the parks for years.
‘There’s not a lot of jobs for an old parky like me,’ Rahim says. ‘I might register for the childminding alongside Janice. But we’re not convinced there’ll be the work for both of us.’
‘People will pretty much always need childminders, won’t they?’ I ask.
‘Not if they can’t find a job.’
‘Yeah, sorry, it’s hard,’ I say, feeling an idiot.
‘Ayee, it’ll work out.’ Rahim waves his drink to dismiss the subject. ‘We’re celebrating, remember?’
‘So, what are you up to, mate?’ Ben asks. ‘I think everyone’s down the Harley tonight.’
I take a breath, my shoulders up around my ears, lips tight.
‘Worried about bumping into Fran?’
