People hurried in and out of the train station. Families and people going to work, and I felt them looking at me as they hurried past. I put my suitcase on its side and sat on it. It had been 15 minutes and still no sign of Maureen. I was getting sick of all the patronising glares. I knew I looked homeless. I might as well have fingerless gloves and be eating spaghetti hoops out of the tin. I had no money for the phone box either. Then I had an idea.
"Excuse me sir do you have any change?"
"Ma'am 'av you got a few coins?"
"'scuse me I couldn't trouble you for some change could I?"
Although most people ignored me, I ended up with enough to make a quick phone call. I put in a few coins and punched in the number scrawled on the back of my hand. The phone didn't ring for very long, then a woman with a Mancunian accent spoke.
"Hello?"
"Hi, err, I'm at the train station," I told her nervously.
"Shite! Oh I am sorry Elizabeth! I've gotten me days all muddled! I'll be there in ten minutes tops, I am sorry love," she explained hurriedly. I heard the phone line go dead and dropped it back onto the receiver.
I decided to go back inside the train station and wait, as it was both warmer. I saw a seat where I could both sit out of the way of any questionable looks, and also be situated close enough to a window to still have a clear view of the car park and bus station.
Before too long a battered red Vauxhall Astra pulled up next to the station and I waved at Maureen. She smiled at me and made a gesture to come on. I picked up my suitcase and put my Parka back on. Once I was outside I had to rush over to avoid the rain that was now pouring fast and heavy. I had to struggle to open the boot so I could chuck my suitcase in the back. By the time I'd got into the front seat the water was dripping off my hood and down my nose.
"Sorry I'm so late duck, I must 'av 'ad the wrong fecking day," she apologised profusely, pushing the cigarette light on and pulling out a tab from the glovebox. "D'you smoke?"
"Nope, never," I lied.
"Good answer, but I know that's not true, here we are, 'ave one of mine," she offered me the packet and I looked at it confused. There must be some sort of trap involved. The people who look after you aren't supposed to let you smoke, let alone give you fags.
"I can hear the cogs in your head turning, go on, it's nat a trap, luv, I won't tell yer Mam."
I took a cigarette and put it in between my lips. The cars cigarette lighter popped out its socket with a click, and Maureen and I lit up.
"Thanks, Maureen,"
"No problem, but call me Mo, only me mam has ever called me Maureen,"
χΞχΞχΞχΞχ
It only took a few days before I was due to go to school. The Barlow Roman Catholic High School, although it never gets called that, was only a stones throw from Mo's house. I was terrified to leave. I'd never been in the school before, I didn't know anyone, no one knew me. I begged her to not make me go. The uniform was the standard. White shirt, red tie, awful knee length skirt, as well as a pair of odd socks and my 1461s. I stuck all my badges onto my school bag. Mo gave me a couple of quid for dinner and I went off down the road, keeping an eye out for other students in the same uniform to avoid getting lost. By the time I had reached the school itself, all the nerves had bubbled up in my chest. I felt a bit sick actually, a slightly queasy feeling in my stomach. I walked into the reception area, told them who I was. Without much thought the woman behind the desk handed me a timetable and a map of the school.
english rose
Start from the beginning
