Lake story

Tuesday

Buckshole Lake in March. When the ice has started to thaw a little and big sheets of it break off from the shore. Wide tumbling bubbles of air work their way out into the middle of the lake and sit stranded out there until spring.

I saw John at the Lake today without hat or coat, his hair was wild and standing up from his head. When he saw me he stopped. I would have smiled, but the way he looked at me.. It put such an awful fear in me. I crossed the road and went up by Joanie's house. I wanted to run but I didn’t want him to know he’d got me scared—and what if he’d come after me? I would have had to cry out and embarrass myself. It was only a look, I’m probably making something out of nothing again, but that face..

I work in town. Clean the cafe for Judy first, then I clean both Tim’s bars on George Street. I start at six and I’m finished by ten most mornings so I have the afternoons to myself.

Tim tried me out on the bar a few weeks back, said I could pick up some hours in the evenings when they were short. But I never felt comfortable standing up there with the whole place watching me, and when it was busy I never could hear what anybody was saying. I could have sworn a couple ordered a Grey Goose with lemonade and a pint of larger, I’d taken my time measuring it out properly and pouring them. Only when I bought the drinks over they said they hadn't asked for either! They'd laughed at me, and Ally had had to come over to refund it in the till and he had laughed too—not in a nasty way—only I’d felt embarrassed and wanted to be home.

Tim didn’t ask me back for any more shifts on the bar and I was glad of it. Besides I make enough to pay for the room I’m letting, and my bills are included. Enough to buy my food for the week and have a little left over that I never know what to do with so have been saving most months.

I've known John since we were young. We went to the same school. The other children would laugh at him, they’d say he smelt of piss and other things I won’t repeat. I felt bad for him then but I didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to hear what they would say about me..

I would see him walking with his mum up to the Ivyhouse Lane on weekends, or when there wasn’t any school. I can still picture him as a child, head down, her holding onto his arm all the way there and him in that bright plastic coat he wore for years. Even in summer I’d see them walking under the high bushes up Old London, him in that coat.

I kept quiet a lot of the time at school, I guess I still do. I remember when I was really young, me and John used to sit together on a little hill in the playground and dig stones out of the ground with our hands. John used to get the knees of his trousers dirty and I would drag my dress along under me as I crawled up and down that hill and mum would shout at me on the way home. I don’t remember us ever really talking but he would watch me sometimes, to see what I had found. One time I found a stone that looked like Jupiter. It was kind of red and had a big spot on the face of it. I showed it to our teacher and she said it did look just like it. That stone got taken from my coat at school and I never saw it again, its funny the things you remember..

But why am I thinking about all this now!—that old stone, those silly childish things. Here I am still up writing past twelve! And John, of all people! He’s not keeping me up when I have to be up at five for work—no thank you!

But that look he gave me today.. I don’t even know if he remembers me, it was all so long ago and we were never really friends. What was he doing out there without a hat or coat, those dark eyes, he looked half crazy. I do hope he’s okay. Not that it’s any of my business as mum would say—God rest her soul!

I need to sleep now or else I wont be any good tomorrow, goodnight!

Wednesday

I thought of the night at Charlie’s house at work today. Tim had wanted all the fridges pulled out and swept and mopped behind for the deep clean. I was down there under the bar on my knees, cleaning plug sockets—not that anybody will ever know!—when it all came flooding up.

I hadn't thought about that night for I don't know how many years. I had gone along with Amy because she had asked me to. One of Charlie’s friends had invited her and she said she liked him. Charlie lived in one of the big houses on the road out of town. His parents were away that night and we had all sat around a table in the kitchen drinking. I had sat close to Amy and I don’t think I said a thing all night. The boys were drinking from a big green bottle they had got down from the cupboard and Amy had brought a bottle of wine from her sister. I had a little of the wine, though I never really liked the taste of alcohol. Even now I’ll only have a glass and only if there’s a reason.

That night Charlie had kissed me when I’d come out of the toilet. He’d been standing in the dark hallway and when I saw him I jumped. He came straight towards me and kissed me, just like that. I laughed a little as first, I didn’t know what to do. Then he put his hand on the inside of my leg under my dress. I stood very still. I didn't know what to do—and I don't know why but all I could think about was that my knickers weren't lace ones like Amy’s. My mum wouldn't buy me those kind of knickers, she said it shouldn't matter. She used to buy me ones that were like boys boxers—and all the time he had his hand up under my dress I stood there with that one stupid thought—that I wasn’t wearing lace knickers—going round and round in my head.

Then Charlie laughed. I tried to laugh too, to act like it had been a joke. We looked at each other in the hallway there for a moment and I could smell whatever they were drinking on his breath. He looked away from me quickly and went into the toilet closing the door behind him.

I stood there in the dark, not knowing whether to go back to the kitchen or whether I was supposed to wait for him—and all I wanted to do was to get out of that house and get away.

I went back to the table and sat next to Amy. Charlie didn’t come back for long time and when he did he didn’t look any different. He was drunk, they were all drunk and they all kept singing together, songs I didn't know.

I left with Amy. She kept talking about the boy she liked, and what he had said all the way home. She asked me if I thought he liked her and I had said I did, but really I didn't care. I didn’t tell her what had happened to me, I didn't want her to know. Besides if she told somebody and it got back to my mum—I don’t know what she would have done.

When I got home that night I went to my bedroom, laid on my bed and cried. I don’t know why it all came back to me down there under the bar. I don’t mean to make a big deal about it either. I know worse things happen to girls—you hear about it all the time and I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways.

I must have been working slowly today because I didn't finish until almost twelve. Ally was setting up the bar as I was finishing but he didn't seem to mind that it had taken me so long. I should have made a little more than I normally get though I swear he didn't pay me right. I’ll ask him tomorrow— he’s normally good with these things—though I do feel a nuisance worrying over an hours pay.

Anyway, it’s late again. I must go to bed, goodnight.

Thursday

I normally write before bed but today I’ve been sat at the table with my book out since I got home. I have a baking potato in the oven and I feel like I have a lot to say—I don’t know why!

I went down past Buckshole again this morning. I didn’t go there on purpose—and it's only a little out of my way, getting off the bus at Silverhill instead of the station. I only did it because the sky was clear when I came down my road and I wanted to see the sunrise. End of March the mornings start getting light. I see the sun between the houses from the bus—a little higher each day and I had been thinking of walking in again one morning this week.

The sky was bright red coming round the lake. It lit up the water between the dark shapes of the trees and the darkness looked red too. I wanted to take my time, to have a little time to think before work. I turned my face towards the light, walking along the side of the road, even closed my eyes for a few moments to see the flickering light on my eyelids that always looks so wonderful to me. When I opened them I saw someone standing in the darkness between the trees.

I stopped there—the cars going past on the road behind me. I thought I was seeing things at first, but no—I know what I saw. I saw the whites of his eyes looking up at me and I stared straight back at them. We looked at each other for what felt like a long time, until he looked away. I saw his figure making off slowly between the trees and I think that it was John.

Work went so slowly and all day l kept thinking of what I had seen at the lake. Of him standing there, looking up at me. Now I’m back home and want to talk—to tell someone what happened and to ask them if they think—but I live alone. I write instead, and you know I don’t feel bad about it.

When I write I can say anything. I can say the things I want to say in my life, the things that I don’t, and theres nobody to stop me or to laugh.

I can say ‘John, I want you!’—Hah!—I can say ‘John, I want to help, whatever’s going on’..

God I sound drunk! I’ll read this back tomorrow and will be embarrassed—I just know I will!

Well, again.. I must go to bed. Although I don’t think I'll get a wink tonight! I don’t, but I must try. Goodnight.