Liam stood against the worktop in his kitchen, relieved that his maIt m had gone to work by the time we got back from the pub as he dodged a right bollocking, and cleaned his face of the blood that was still running down his chin.
"Eyar, you need to dab at it," I told him, but he took no notice and continued to wipe roughly at the wound on his engorged lower lip. And so I curled my fingers and tapped on my lip to demonstrate what he should have been doing, but I still went ignored.
"Get off me case woman, I'll be fine," he said stubbornly.
"I'm just saying it'll stop bleeding quicker if you dab at it instead of fuckin sanding your lip down with a tea towel."
He lowered the tea towel from his face completely and give me a bored look before handing me the blood stained cloth.
"Will your Mam be bothered about the blood on this? You might want to put it on a hot wash before she gets back," I said, taking it from his elongated arm and dabbed his mouth with it.
"Probably, yeah. Do you know how to do it?" He asked.
"Nope."
"We could burn it? Or just chuck it out?"
"Will she notice it's missing?"
"She has millions, it's fine."
I stepped away from him and handed him the bloody rag as the bleeding subsided. He took it from my hands and scurried out of the back door before flinging it over the fence that backed onto him garden.
"So what did you do to get in trouble with Ian and his boys?" I asked with a laugh, as he came back into the kitchen.
"I slept with his girlfriend," he laughed.
"Oh right," I said. My laughter continued as it only reinforced what Martha told me about him, "when was that then?"
"Like last month - but nor right, I only did it cos she's fit and he robbed me of £20," he justified himself, growing increasingly defensive.
"Oh well that's alright then," I mused.
"Come on, we'll go upsta-" he started, getting sick of my teasing but he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone, "I'll just get the phone, you go on up."
I nodded as he went over to the stand which the phone was on, and made my way up the stairs. I stalked along the landing to his room which Liam had taken me to prior to the pub. Sitting down on the bed, I fiddled with my Walkman, taking out my Bowie cassette and putting back in its case and rolling up my headphone wires until Liam came back upstairs huffing in a strop.
"You alright mate?" I asked him as he leaned down in front of the bed to pull out a ceramic ashtray from underneath.
"Yeah, sound," he said, brushing me off as he sat down next to me and crossing his legs, "d'ya want me lighter again?"
I wasn't really in the mood for a smoke.
"Yeah cheers," I said and reached into the masses of shite at the bottom of my bag and got out my tabs.
"Anyway right, giz one of them and I'll give you two of mine," he negotiated with me, referring to my Marlboro ciggies. "I haven't smoked them in bare fuckin time."
"Go on then," I said, holding out my box to him, and him to me. I took two of his cheap ciggies and lit one, placing the other in the empty space which Liam had made in my box.
We both sat on his bed chain-smoking, resting against the wall. The ash tray was resting upon his thigh, and so I had to sit closer in order to flick the ash from the end.
"Swear to god mate, I've gotten used to king size so it's frustrating having these cos they don't burn as long," I said with a chuckle, as I noticed that I was nearly finished while Liam had barely gone down his (mine).
"King size proper knock me out now," he told me with a laugh, "I get near the end and I can't hack it anymore."
We chatted again about music, trading opinions on albums and upcoming bands.
"When's Martha coming back from Inspiral Carpet's?" Liam asked, drifting off subject.
"Dunno, not for like a month or somet, I don't think. Why?"
"Noel's coming back on Thursday," he said, pausing and taking a drag, "He must've been sacked."
"You buzzing?" I asked him.
"Well yeah, but nor cos he's a twat and I hate him. But he's not as bad cos I don't have to live with him anymore," he paused, "we get on a bit better when we don't have to see each other all the time."
I tutted in understanding. But it was clear that this conversation was getting us both down, and so he changed the subject again.
"So have you got a boyfriend then? Is that the real reason you pied me off?" He joked, elbowing me in the side.
"Nope, I just wasn't interested mate," I looked at him and chuckled, "I am sort of seeing this lad anyway, I'm going out with him on Thursday."
"Ooh right, and what's his name?" He asked, getting as into the gossip as Martha does.
"Finn Donovan?" I said, "d'ya know him?"
"Not personally, only that he's known by loads of girls as the fittest and most nicest lad around ever," he said, and then turned his face up in a joking manner and said, "but I think they'll find that is obviously me."
"Whatever you say, mate," I laughed at him.
He was actually good company was Liam. I can see why he's well liked; he's a twat but seems to mostly know his limits.
"So you're not seeing no one then?" I asked, putting out my tab and leaning back.
"Nah," he said, started chuckling, "I hardly have proper girlfriends though. It takes a pure whopper to blow me away d'ya know what I mean?"
"What whoppers have you been out with then?" I asked, growing curious at the hard to impress boy, as I had previously been under the illusion that he was easy.
"Bella Jackson, she was fit as fuck and she had a pure heart of gold-"
"Why'd you finish?" I interrupted, getting slightly irked at Bella's apparent heart of gold. She had fucked me over many a times.
"Fucking hell, you're eager, dya know Bella?" He said, laughing at me, and I nodded before he continued, "Well she'd say it was cos I thought she was a fanny and frigid and that, but it was cos she's pure fake. Like I thought she was dead nice and that but then she started getting two faced and when we were out she'd blatantly graft other lads."
"I had a fight with her before," I told him and his head whipped round to look at me while I started laughing.
"Why? When?" He said laughing.
"She shagged my mates boyfriend at the time, but then she started making digs about me mam and dad. But it was like last year or something."
"Are your mam and dad together like? I didn't see him at your house," he said, and I just shook my head.
"I didn't even know my dad was my dad till I was like 9, and I used to see him like every week at his record shop."
"That's shite that," he said, nudging my side and giving me a supportive grin.
There was obviously more to the story but at the end of the day, I'd known Liam less than week and I wasn't just going to tell him everything about my shitey upbringing.
"What about you then?"
"Nor my dad's the worst cunt you could think of," he said, growing increasingly angry, "still have to work for him sometimes though cos I need the money."
I returned the sympathetic smile which he gave me and told him that he could always ring me if he's ever fucked off about owt - we both seem to have been brought up around dickheads. To which he sat up and looked around.
"Have you got any paper or somet to write on?"
"Yeah hold on," I pulled the folded up envelope out of my jacket and handed it to him, "here."
He took a pen from the windowsill and wrote his number down, before handing it back to me, "there's me number, just give me a ring as well."
-
I went home with the realisation that the drink Liam had so eagerly awaited was short in duration, yet failed to become underwhelming. I think it was this that drew me to giving Martha a ring when I got home with the intention of telling her about the fight. She also knows everyone, so it's likely she understands what Liam was on about with that lad better than I do.
I had the receiver pressed against the side of my face as I waited impatiently and for Martha to pick up on the other end. I could tell it was about to ring out, when a male answered the phone. I sometimes forgot it was a communal phone they had and not Martha's personal phone.
"Hello?"
"Hiya is Martha there?" I asked.
"No sorry love, she's setting up for the gig at the minute - getting everything sorted and that."
"Ah right, cheers bye."
I was so bored. My family was always quite big and I was always surrounded by a good group of friends, so I never really ever wanted to be on my own. I never liked the feeling of being alone in my bedroom, sitting with my back to the window as if I was entrapped within a lonesome tower amongst the shrubbery and trees of a forest.
The phone ringing stopped me getting overly dramatic, and I assumed it was Martha giving me a ring back.
"Hello?" I asked
"Holly?" To my surprise, my dad was on the other end, "would you be able to come into work tomorrow?"
"Yeah I'm not doing owt."
"Thanks love, see you."
-
I usually only work Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but I didn't mind having to come in on a Monday cos I wasn't expected in till 10, half an hour before my dad's shop opens and I'm getting payed overtime so it's a bit of a win win.
I got the bus to town and made my way through a few backstreets to get to Backbeat Vinyl, my dad's notorious record shop. Obviously not as notorious as Piccadilly, otherwise it wouldn't be in a little alley but my dad says it's cos he hasn't sold his soul to the corporations.
"Alright dad," I said, walking through the door and into the 'staff room' in the back where he was sat, though it was more of a dingy store room with a Hi-Fi, a fridge, a kettle and a table and some chairs.
"Yeah, y'alright duck? You're a bit late," he commented, tutting jokily. I checked my watch, which read 5 to 11.
"I know, I couldn't get a lift off Morgan," I explained with a sigh, "I had to get the bus."
"Eyar then, get through the there. You're on the front till 3," he told me, and I walked through.
I jammed the door open with a brick, and I made my way to the sign around the corner to put it back up on the hook, so that it pointed the way from the high street to the shop. We used to lose it all the time in the winter windy nights, so we take it down before closing and bring it inside.
Once back in the shop, I got to do my favourite part of work. I got to choose what music to put on through the day, and so I put on The Smiths' Strangeways Here We Come on the cassette player.
I done all my usual checks of the stock, and then stood in place behind the till and waited for the customers to roll in.