We spent a few moments just looking out, letting the wind hit us. Rodney was still trying to be cheerful, like he’d decided not to let any of this business spoil a good outing. He was pointing out to Chrissie something in the sea, way off on the horizon. But Chrissie turned away from him and said:
“Well, I think we’re agreed, aren’t we? That isn’t Ruth.” She gave a small laugh and laid a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. But we can’t blame Rodney really. It wasn’t that wild a try. You’ve got to admit, when we saw her through those windows, it did look . . .” She trailed off, then touched Ruth on the shoulder again.
Ruth said nothing, but gave a little shrug, almost as if to shrug off the touch. She was squinting into the distance, at the sky rather than the water. I could tell she was upset, but someone who didn’t know her well might well have supposed she was being thoughtful.
“Sorry, Ruth,” Rodney said, and he too gave Ruth a pat on the shoulder. But he had a smile on his face like he didn’t expect for one moment to be blamed for anything. It was the way someone apologised when they’d tried to do you a favour, but it hadn’t worked out.
Watching Chrissie and Rodney at that moment, I remember thinking, yes, they were okay. They were kind in their way and were trying to cheer Ruth up. At the same time, though, I remember feeling—even though they were the ones doing the talking, and Tommy and I were silent—a sort of resentment towards them on Ruth’s behalf. Because however sympathetic they were, I could see that deep down they were relieved. They were relieved things had turned out the way they had; that they were in a position to comfort Ruth, instead of being left behind in the wake of a dizzying boost to her hopes. They were relieved they wouldn’t have to face, more starkly than ever, the notion which fascinated and nagged and scared them: this notion of theirs that there were all kinds of possibilities open to us Hailsham students that weren’t open to them. I remember thinking then how different they actually were, Chrissie and Rodney, from the three of us.
Then Tommy said: “I don’t see what difference it makes. It was just a bit of fun we were having.”
“A bit of fun for you maybe, Tommy,” Ruth said coldly, still gazing straight ahead of her. “You wouldn’t think so if it was your possible we’d been looking for.”
“I think I would,” Tommy said. “I don’t see how it matters. Even if you found your possible, the actual model they got you from. Even then, I don’t see what difference it makes to anything.”
“Thank you for your profound contribution, Tommy,” said Ruth.
“But I think Tommy’s right,” I said. “It’s daft to assume you’ll have the same sort of life as your model. I agree with Tommy. It’s just a bit of fun. We shouldn’t get so serious about it.”
I too reached out and touched Ruth on the shoulder. I wanted her to feel the contrast to when Chrissie and Rodney had touched her, and I deliberately chose exactly the same spot. I expected some response, some signal that she accepted understanding from me and Tommy in a way she didn’t from the veterans. But she gave me nothing, not even the shrug she’d given Chrissie.
Somewhere behind me I could hear Rodney pacing about, making noises to suggest he was getting chilly in the strong wind. “How about going to visit Martin now?” he said. “His flat’s just over there, behind those houses.”
Ruth suddenly sighed and turned to us. “To be honest,” she said, “I knew all along it was stupid.”
“Yeah,” said Tommy, eagerly. “Just a bit of fun.”
Ruth gave him an irritated look. “Tommy, please shut up with all this ‘bit of fun’ stuff. No one’s listening.” Then turning to Chrissie and Rodney she went on: “I didn’t want to say when you first told me about this. But look, it was never on. They don’t ever, ever, use people like that woman. Think about it. Why would she want to? We all know it, so why don’t we all face it. We’re not modelled from that sort . . .”
“Ruth,” I cut in firmly. “Ruth, don’t.”
But she just carried on: “We all know it. We’re modelled from trash. Junkies, prostitutes, winos, tramps. Convicts, maybe, just so long as they aren’t psychos. That’s what we come from. We all know it, so why don’t we say it? A woman like that? Come on. Yeah, right, Tommy. A bit of fun. Let’s have a bit of fun pretending. That other woman in there, her friend, the old one in the gallery. Art students, that’s what she thought we were. Do you think she’d have talked to us like that if she’d known what we really were? What do you think she’d have said if we’d asked her? ‘Excuse me, but do you think your friend was ever a clone model?’ She’d have thrown us out. We know it, so we might as well just say it. If you want to look for possibles, if you want to do it properly, then you look in the gutter. You look in rubbish bins. Look down the toilet, that’s where you’ll find where we all came from.”
“Ruth”—Rodney’s voice was steady and had a warning in it—“let’s forget about it and go and see Martin. He’s off this afternoon. You’ll like him, he’s a real laugh.”
Chrissie put an arm around Ruth. “Come on, Ruth. Let’s do what Rodney says.”
Ruth got to her feet and Rodney started to walk.
“Well, you lot can go,” I said quietly. “I’m not going.”
Ruth turned and looked at me carefully. “Well, what do you know? Who’s the upset one now?”
“I’m not upset. But sometimes you speak garbage, Ruth.”
“Oh, look who’s upset now. Poor Kathy. She never likes straight talking.”
“It’s nothing to do with that. I don’t want to visit a carer. We’re not supposed to and I don’t even know this guy.”
Ruth shrugged and exchanged glances with Chrissie. “Well,” she said, “there’s no reason we’ve got to go round together the whole time. If little Miss here doesn’t want to join us, she doesn’t have to. Let her go off by herself.” Then she leaned over to Chrissie and said in a stage whisper: “That’s always the best way when Kathy’s in a mood. Leave her alone and she’ll walk it off.”
“Be back at the car by four o’clock,” Rodney said to me. “Otherwise you’ll have to hitch-hike.” Then he did a laugh. “Come on, Kathy, don’t get in a sulk. Come with us.”
“No. You go on. I don’t feel like it.”
Rodney shrugged and started to move off again. Ruth and Chrissie followed, but Tommy didn’t move. Only when Ruth stared at him did he say:
“I’ll stay with Kath. If we’re splitting, then I’ll stay with Kath.”
Ruth glared at him in fury, then turned and strode off. Chrissie and Rodney looked at Tommy awkwardly, then they too began walking again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tommy and I leaned on the rail and stared at the view until the others had gone out of sight.
“It’s just talk,” he said eventually. Then after a pause: “It’s just what people say when they’re feeling sorry for themselves. It’s just talk. The guardians never told us anything like that.”
I started to walk—the opposite way to the others—and let Tommy fall in step beside me.
“It’s not worth getting upset about,” Tommy went on. “Ruth’s always doing things like that now. It’s just her letting off steam. Anyway, like we were telling her, even if it’s true, even a little bit true, I don’t see how it makes any difference. Our models, what they were like, that’s nothing to do with us, Kath. It’s just not worth getting upset about.”
“Okay,” I said, and deliberately bumped my shoulder into his. “Okay, okay.”
I had the impression we were walking towards the town centre, though I couldn’t be sure. I was trying to think of a way to change the subject, when Tommy said first:
“You know when we were in that Woolworth’s place earlier? When you were down at the back with the others? I was trying to find something. Something for you.”
“A present?” I looked at him in surprise. “I’m not sure Ruth would approve of that. Not unless you got her a bigger one.”
“A sort of present. But I couldn’t find it. I wasn’t going to tell you, but now, well, I’ve got another chance to find it. Except you might have to help me. I’m not very good at shopping.”
“Tommy, what are you talking about? You want to get me a present, but you want me to help you choose it . . .”
“No, I know what it is. It’s just that . . .” He laughed and shrugged. “Oh, I might as well tell you. In that shop we were in, they had this shelf with loads of records and tapes. So I was looking for the one you lost that time. Do you remember, Kath? Except I couldn’t remember what it was any more.”
“My tape? I didn’t realise you ever knew about it, Tommy.”
“Oh yeah. Ruth was getting people to look for it and saying you were really upset about losing it. So I tried to find it. I never told you at the time, but I did try really hard. I thought there’d be places I could look where you couldn’t. In boys’ dorms, stuff like that. I remember looking for ages, but I couldn’t find it.”
I glanced at him and felt my rotten mood evaporating. “I never knew that, Tommy. That was really sweet of you.”
“Well, it didn’t help much. But I really wanted to find it for you. And when it looked in the end like it wasn’t going to turn up, I just said to myself, one day I’ll go to Norfolk and I’ll find it there for her.”
“The lost corner of England,” I said, and looked around me. “And here we are!”
Tommy too looked around him, and we came to a halt. We were in another side-street, not as narrow as the one with the gallery. For a moment we both kept glancing around theatrically, then giggled.
“So it wasn’t such a daft idea,” Tommy said. “That Woolworth’s shop earlier, it had all these tapes, so I thought they were bound to have yours. But I don’t think they did.”
“You don’t think they did? Oh, Tommy, you mean you didn’t even look properly!”
“I did, Kath. It’s just that, well, it’s really annoying but I couldn’t remember what it was called. All that time at Hailsham, I was opening boys’ collection chests and everything, and now I can’t remember. It was Julie Bridges or something . . .”
“Judy Bridgewater. Songs After Dark.”
Tommy shook his head solemnly. “They definitely didn’t have that.”
I laughed and punched his arm. He looked puzzled so I said: “Tommy, they wouldn’t have something like that in Woolworth’s. They have the latest hits. Judy Bridgewater, she’s someone from ages ago. It just happened to turn up, at one of our Sales. It’s not going to be in Woolworth’s now, you idiot!”
“Well, like I said, I don’t know about things like that. But they had so many tapes . . .”
“They had some, Tommy. Oh, never mind. It was a sweet idea. I’m really touched. It was a great idea. This is Norfolk, after all.”
We started walking again and Tommy said hesitantly: “Well, that’s why I had to tell you. I wanted to surprise you, but it’s useless. I don’t know where to look, even if I do know the name of the record. Now I’ve told you, you can help me. We can look for it together.”
“Tommy, what are you talking about?” I was trying to sound reproachful, but I couldn’t help laughing.
“Well, we’ve got over an hour. This is a real chance.”
“Tommy, you idiot. You really believe it, don’t you? All this lost-corner stuff.”
“I don’t necessarily believe it. But we might as well look now we’re here. I mean, you’d like to find it again, wouldn’t you? What have we got to lose?”
“All right. You’re a complete idiot, but all right.”
He opened his arms out helplessly. “Well, Kath, where do we go? Like I say, I’m no good at shopping.”
“We have to look in second-hand places,” I said, after a moment’s thought. “Places full of old clothes, old books. They’ll sometimes have a box full of records and tapes.”
“Okay. But where are these shops?”
When I think of that moment now, standing with Tommy in the little side-street about to begin our search, I feel a warmth welling up through me. Everything suddenly felt perfect: an hour set aside, stretching ahead of us, and there wasn’t a better way to spend it. I had to really hold myself back from giggling stupidly, or jumping up and down on the pavement like a little kid. Not long ago, when I was caring for Tommy, and I brought up our Norfolk trip, he told me he’d felt exactly the same. That moment when we decided to go searching for my lost tape, it was like suddenly every cloud had blown away, and we had nothing but fun and laughter before us.
At the start, we kept going into the wrong sort of places: second-hand bookshops, or shops full of old vacuum cleaners, but no music at all. After a while Tommy decided I didn’t know any better than he did and announced he would lead the way. As it happened, by sheer luck really, he discovered straight away a street with four shops of just the kind we were after, standing virtually in a row. Their front windows were full of dresses, handbags, children’s annuals, and when you went inside, a sweet stale smell. There were piles of creased paperbacks, dusty boxes full of postcards or trinkets. One shop specialised in hippie stuff, while another had war medals and photos of soldiers in the desert. But they all had somewhere a big cardboard box or two with LPs and cassette tapes. We rummaged around those shops, and in all honesty, after the first few minutes, I think Judy Bridgewater had more or less slipped from our minds. We were just enjoying looking through all those things together; drifting apart then finding ourselves side by side again, maybe competing for the same box of bric-a-brac in a dusty corner lit up by a shaft of sun.
Then of course I found it. I’d been flicking through a row of cassette cases, my mind on other things, when suddenly there it was, under my fingers, looking just the way it had all those years ago: Judy, her cigarette, the coquettish look for the barman, the blurred palms in the background.
I didn’t exclaim, the way I’d been doing when I’d come across other items that had mildly excited me. I stood there quite still, looking at the plastic case, unsure whether or not I was delighted. For a second, it even felt like a mistake. The tape had been the perfect excuse for all this fun, and now it had turned up, we’d have to stop. Maybe that was why, to my own surprise, I kept silent at first; why I thought about pretending never to have seen it. And now it was there in front of me, there was something vaguely embarrassing about the tape, like it was something I should have grown out of. I actually went as far as flicking the cassette on and letting its neighbour fall on it. But there was the spine, looking up at me, and in the end I called Tommy over.
“Is that it?” He seemed genuinely sceptical, perhaps because I wasn’t making more fuss. I pulled it out and held it in both hands. Then suddenly I felt a huge pleasure—and something else, something more complicated that threatened to make me burst into tears. But I got a hold of the emotion, and just gave Tommy’s arm a tug.
“Yes, this is it,” I said, and for the first time smiled excitedly. “Can you believe it? We’ve really found it!”
