Nice Day For A White Wedding. A. Michael L.

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СКАЧАТЬ and harmless, or scarier and sprawling. Nothing had changed, she realised, recalling the multiples times she’d narrowly escaped trouble. She had a knack for attracting it then. You felt invincible when you were a kid. There was the time Leah Thomas decided Chelsea had flirted with her man. That’d been a big one. Chelsea had managed to head-butt her and knock Leah’s two front teeth clean out. She was called Gap Tooth from then on, and it got shorted to GT as the years went by. She probably still lived here.

      She walked across the centre of the grassy verge, remembering the time one of her mum’s boyfriends tried to knock their front door down, because he was convinced Tyler had nicked his stash. He probably had too, but all Chelsea could remember was laughing and taunting him whilst he went mad outside, and they pushed a cupboard up against the front door until he went away.

      So many years of screaming and squaring up and desperately being a smartarse, because if you were just funny enough, someone might give you a break.

      Chelsea took it in, the light sky of summer reflecting off the concrete. A couple of boys were standing around, topless in the fading light, jeans low on their hips as they stood smoking, staring at her. She instantly recognised Ty, his pimply teenage skin and shaved head atop a skinny body. His eyes widened in warning: ‘Don’t you dare come over here in front of them.’

      She hated to admit it, but Tyler was pretty much a lost cause. It might have been her fault. She got out, got a job and forgot about him. She left him with her mum and Jez and the little ones. Chelsea had convinced herself that maybe she’d inspire him, show him that he could do it too, go to college, uni, do whatever he wanted. Those first few trips home had been full of impassioned speeches about following your dreams and all that bollocks. Ty wasn’t buying it. Which was fair enough, because the person who had washed his clothes, helped with his homework and made sure there was dinner every night had up and abandoned him without a backwards glance.

      Chelsea frowned, nodded at her brother and shook her head as she marched over to her mum’s front door. She heard the whistles and catcalls from behind her as Tyler’s friends realised she was going to his house.

      ‘Ty, your stepdad send over a posh prozzie?’ one asked.

      ‘Yeah, present for your little brother’s birthday yeah?’ another cackled.

      She turned and Tyler just stared at her, chin raised defiantly as their eyes met.

      ‘Nah, it’s just my hoity toity bitch sister.’

      The ‘oohs’ of the teenage boys were low as they watched Chelsea for her reaction. She had purposefully softened her look, her blonde bob clipped back at the sides, her jeans and plain T-shirt. The bag didn’t have a designer label, and her shoes were cheap. But they could see it as well as she could – she didn’t belong here any more.

      She stared at Tyler, a dead blank stare until he shrugged and turned away. The old Chelsea would have marched over and punched him, grabbed his ear and dragged him inside the flat. But it was too late for that now. She had lost that right a long time ago. She turned back to the black door with a sigh. The peeling paint, the crap dumped out the front, it seemed to look worse every time she came back. She knocked, hard, the sound of the tinny TV booming in the background.

      The door opened and Jermaine threw himself at her. At least one of her brothers was happy to see her. Chelsea grabbed him, lifting him up in a tight hug as she walked through the door and kicked it shut behind her. Jermaine’s soft bushy hair tickled her chin and she gave him a final squeeze before releasing him.

      ‘Look at you, birthday boy! You’re so big!’

      Jermaine held up his arms as if he was bodybuilding. ‘I’m doing judo at school! My teacher says I’m well good!’

      Chelsea grinned at him, ruffling his hair. ‘That’s so cool! You’ll have to show me some moves!’

      She breathed a sigh of relief that the money had gone through for Jay’s lessons. She’d started dealing directly with the school last term, after she realised the money she gave her mum wasn’t being used for the kids in the way that she’d planned. And she could see why.

      She walked into the living room, the paint still peeling, that damp patch still on the ceiling. The TV on the wall was new, obnoxiously huge, and blaring.

      Her mother looked up, bleary-eyed, a mug of weak tea in her one hand and a fag in the other.

      ‘Ah, the prodigal daughter returns, eh?’ She snorted, taking in Chelsea’s outfit. ‘What happened, the stock markets crash so now it’s okay to see your scumbag family?’

      Chelsea took a breath. ‘It’s Jay’s birthday.’

      ‘I know when my own son’s birthday is, thank you very fucking much.’

      Yeah, but the father’s name is still a mystery, isn’t it? Chelsea thought spitefully, rolling her eyes and staying silent. Jermaine’s dark skin and green eyes set him apart from them as a family, but once her mum and stepdad had got back together, Jez took Jay on as his own, just like the rest of them. Besides, Jay was the sweetest of them all. He was naturally kinder, slow to anger, easily pleased. Whoever Jay’s dad was, he was probably a nice guy, Chelsea had often reasoned. For some reason, Jay hadn’t been inflicted with that poisonous spitefulness that Chelsea and Tyler both had. And it was easy to see where they got it from.

      ‘So did you get him a big expensive present, or what? Don’t know what else you’re good for if you’re not even going to provide for your family with that big fancy city job.’

      ‘Well, I’m clearly providing for your B and H, and your White Lightning, aren’t I, Mum?’ Chelsea spat the words, holding Jay close to her. ‘Nice TV by the way, seems like you’re doing all right to me.’

      She could feel how her voice had changed the minute she stepped into the flat. It became rougher, more guttural. She spat words instead of saying them, missed words out to get to the point quicker.

      ‘No thanks to you.’ Carly Donnolly wearily moved from the chair to refill her tea.

      ‘Might wanna change your approach, Mum, if you’re gonna ask me for money before I leave tonight.’

      Her mother was noticeably silent, and she counted eight seconds before her voice called from the kitchen in a cheerier tone, ‘Want a cuppa?’

      Chelsea sighed, feeling her stomach ache. ‘Yes please. No sugar.’

      She turned to her little brother. ‘Want your present now?’ she grinned at him, shaking the plastic bag.

      She admitted some of it wasn’t fun stuff, a new school bag, colouring pens, books. But Jermaine looked at everything with joy, wonder and gratitude. The last thing he opened was the pair of trainers, Air Nikes that had cost her more than she wanted to think about. But she remembered how horrible it had felt all those years ago, before she’d realised that fitting in wasn’t an option. All she wanted was what everyone else was wearing, instead of raggedy second-hand crap. She wanted Jay to have something new and shiny.

      His face lit up and he flung his arms around her neck. ‘Thank you, thank you! Mum! Look what Chels got me!’

      Carly’s face turned from piqued interest to disdain as she put a mug next to Chelsea and returned to her seat. ‘He’ll grow out of them quick as anything. Woulda been better to give him the money.’

      Yeah, СКАЧАТЬ