White Goods Read Free Page A

that
Dad drove for holidays. Dad and Ian sat up front, whilst me, Mum
and Della sat in the back. Two long bench-like seats were fitted
against the sides of the van, so you had a corridor down the
middle, like on a coach.
    ‘ Should’ve all come in the
same car, saved money,’ Mum remarked, seeing us getting into three
vehicles.
    But Auntie Stella had insisted on driving herself, saying
she liked her freedom. Then she made a comment about her little
black Mini getting some action on the road, and the dirty looks,
dirty laughs and dirty-smirks-off-faces malarkey repeated itself.
    ‘ What’s so funny then?’ I asked Ian, who was part of the
dirty look brigade, clearly embarrassed by the comment.
    ‘ She’s talking about her
muff,’ he said, rolling his eyes.
    I
was about to ask him another question, but he gave me a look that
said don’t-ask-another-question, so I didn’t.
    ‘ Right,’ said Uncle Gary, suddenly
sounding assertive, making everyone take note. ‘Anyone want a ride
with me?’
    ‘ Not a word!’ said Mum,
stopping Auntie Stella from saying whatever she was about to say.
‘Nice offer, Gary, I’m sure one of the kids would like to,’ and she
gave me a nudge, pushing me forward. ‘Scotty, how about you keep
your Uncle Gary company?’
    I slid onto the passenger seat
cautiously, hoping the leather wouldn’t be too hot this
time.
    ‘ You still keeping that anorak on?’ he asked me, leaning
over, pulling the seat-belt across my body. He plugged me in,
personally making sure I didn’t-come-to-any-harm. His words, not mine.
    I
said nothing, just kept my eyes fixed on the traffic light
air-freshener that swung from the rear-view mirror, as he went from
nought to fifty-five, like he was Starsky or Hutch or something. He
turned on his radio, music blaring out, trying to be cool, but I
wasn’t sucked-in. I wasn’t being his pal. I’d been in Uncle Gary’s car before; I
knew what was coming. So, I just kept still, concentrating on those
traffic lights, concentrating on the smell of perfume that lingered
lamely over the stink of petrol. Concentrating on anything I could,
trying not to worry too much about what I’d dragged myself
into.
     
    When we got back, Mum pulled me towards
her and checked me over; padded my coat with the flat of her hands,
and checked my pockets too, like she was checking I was all still
there.
    ‘ You need to clean up,’ she announced, hands off, stepping
back, as if that was the conclusion from her rough examination.
‘We’re all out tonight and I want us to look our best. Ian, take
your brother over to the showers.’
    The showers
were at Block D; our caravan was in Block F. We had to walk back up
towards the entrance, past about ten caravans to reach
them.
    Ian noticed a couple of girls on the way. He said Hi and they said Hi back. Maybe see you later, down the
club? he called after them,
turning round, and walking backwards. One shrugged, the other
giggled. After the
show? he added.
    Something changed in Ian’s face, then;
something I didn’t think too much of at the time. The joy went from
it, his boyish smirk sinking away, leaving him a bit
grey.
    ‘ What?’ I asked, picking up
on it. I looked back at the girls, expecting to see something else;
someone else. But it was just those two girls, getting smaller as
they walked away.
    ‘ Come on,’ he said, his
face recovering from whatever it was. ‘Let’s get you scrubbed
up.’
    And just like that, it was forgotten,
like it really was nothing at all.
    Inside the shower block, Ian left me to
sort myself out, whilst he went off for a bit. He was gone for my
whole shower. But that was okay; I didn’t mind being on my own. I
liked the showers. I didn’t mind taking off my coat and clothes for
the shower, either. At home, we just had a blue, rubber shower hose
attached to the bath taps - just for your hair really - but here
the showers were proper showers. A little cubicle, like a loo, with
a lock on the door and