ALONG COMES MARY
I was eleven years old when I fell in love. At least, that's what I thought it was at the time. "Look at her," I breathed to Scratchy when I first saw her. "Yeah, she's beautiful." Scratchy was my best mate, a skinny kid with "VICTIM" scrawled on his forehead, and he always agreed with me. She was, though. She had flawless skin, long golden hair, full red lips and blue eyes like diamonds. Back then, I didn't know that diamonds weren't blue. She was also a lot older than me. Like an adult, I thought, although she couldn't have been more than seventeen. Still, I was fascinated by her. I needed to find out more, and the only way, it seemed, was to ask Todd. My brother. Not that he'd let me call him "Todd" or "my brother". It was no good for his reputation to be related to a weird looking kid like me. We didn't look anything alike; I was pretty sure we were only half-brothers. As for his name, he hated it. "Poof's name," he scorned. He was "Falks", a derivative of our surname. "Falkster" to a select number of friends. He went through a phase of being "Falksy" then decided that sounded poofy as well. Still, I couldn't help but think of him as Todd. He was only two years older than me, but was already shagging girls. He brought them back to the flat, to the room we shared, kicking me and my toy cars out into the living room. If I didn't scarper quickly enough, he crushed the cars with his steel-toed boots. The girls I saw him with always looked the same - thin and pale and nervous. I couldn't blame them, though, for the nervousness. I couldn't remember him paying anyone a compliment and I was terrified of him. So it was a while before I found the courage to ask him about the girl at school. It was also a question of finding the opportunity. He was hardly ever at home, except when he brought a girl back, and he wouldn't be caught dead in public with me. But one night, we both happened to be sitting in front of the telly, eating chips with Mum. Her presence was off-putting, but I told myself it didn't matter what she heard us talking about. She never disapproved of Todd's activities, not verbally at any rate. I didn't know whether that was because she was scared of him too or because she was too stupid. Probably both. Yes, she was stupid. It was just the way she was. She talked slowly and simply with too many 's's and she couldn't read. There wasn't a single book or newspaper or letter in our house, just my old comics and Todd's porn magazines. She didn't understand money either, just gave it to us blindly. Still, she made decent scran and did the rest of the housework without complaint and left us alone. Suited me. Anyway, there was this woman on an advert who looked a bit like the girl at school. I wondered for a moment if it was the girl, but no, her eyes were different. And believe me, I knew the girl's eyes like the back of my hand. Scratchy and me's only mission at school was to get as many glimpses of her as we could. Well, that and keeping out of trouble. Not with the teachers, with the Year 11s and 12s and 13s. Even the younger ones had a go at us sometimes. Anyway, that advert was my chance. "Hey," I said. "Hey," Todd mimicked, in a falsetto voice. His had broken. "That girl on the telly," I began, unphased. "Girl," he said, witheringly now. "It's bird." "Birds that fly in the sky," Mum remarked. Mum had a thing about birds, the winged-type that is. She couldn't tell a sparrow from an ostrich, but it had occurred to me that she wanted to be one. "Listen to her, she's a fuckin dyke," Todd said. She ignored him, not knowing what a dyke was. Neither did I, but it still bothered me, Todd insulting her. Not a lot, mind. I was used to it. "Anyway, what about her?" "She looks a bit like someone at our school." "Who?" Amazing, I'd managed to speak a sentence without him correcting me! "I dunno. I was wondering if you did. She's older than us and she's beautiful." "Beautiful?" He pissed himself laughing. "Listen to yourself, ya daft poof! Fuckin fit maybe, but-" He started laughing again. I waited patiently for him to stop. The advert finished and the one for Diet Coke started. Eventually he said, "I think I know who you mean, mind." Except he pronounced "I" as "ah", "who" is "oo" and "you" as "ya". "Mary Somerville." So that was her name. It suited her. "I'd fuckin shag the arse off it." "Have you?" I asked, horrified by the prospect, something that had never crossed my mind before. But just because he'd never brought her back here didn't mean he hadn't. He started laughing again. "Course I haven't, ya daft cunt!" Well, it was better than being a daft poof, I think. "For a start she's older than us. Year 11, likes. And she's going out with Brian Marston. Ya know who that is?" "Yeah," I managed to say. But this was my worst nightmare. I was afraid of Todd, but he was my brother at any rate. Next to Brian Marston he was positively nice. Brian Marston was the bane of my existence. A Year 11, he made my mother look like a fucking genius. But stupid or otherwise, he was the cruelest of my tormentors. How could Mary, my beautiful Mary, be going out with him? Todd's tone suddenly changed. "Is he giving you any hassle?" he asked, an urgency in his voice. "A bit," I answered neutrally. In actual fact, Brian stole my dinner money every day and stuck Scratchy's head down the toilet, but I hated sounding totally hopeless. Besides- "I'll kill him!" Todd yelled. "I'll fuckin kill him!" "Why?" I asked. "Because suddenly, I dunno how, every cunt and his grandmother knows you're my fuckin brother! I'm not having no cunt beating up my fuckin brother!" And from that day onwards, Brian Marston never gave us any hassle again. Neither did anyone else. Course, that meant they focussed all their attenton on Scratchy, but Todd wasn't doing anything about that. I couldn't help but feel grateful though, even if Todd had only stopped them in self interest. Thing about Todd was, even though he was only in Year 9 and he wasn't big or hard, he commanded respect. He carried a knife and that scared bastards like Brain Marston, who relied solely on brute force, shitless. Anyway, Todd changed the subject back to Mary Somerville. "How come you're asking about that then?" He often referred to girls as inanimate objects. "I love her," I said, knowing what was coming next. I'd guessed right. He couldn't contain his hysterics. He was rolling on the floor, clutching his sides, groaning. Eventually he managed to say, "Wank on!" And when he'd composed himself a little more, he said, "Well, if Brian Marston's fucking it-" Horrific image, his ugliness spoiling her purity "-then she must have fuckin weird taste. Maybe you're in with a chance after all!" And then he started killing himself with laughter again.
Maybe not the next year, either. Brian, not surprisingly, failed all his GCSEs at the end of Year 11 and had to leave school; Mary stayed on and my heart leapt. But almost immediately she started seeing Gareth who'd been Brian's sidekick. While he must have had some brains, I'd never seen him use them and he looked like a weasel. What Mary saw in him, I couldn't imagine. He got expelled towards the end of that school year for setting off fireworks in the toilets. He had a thing about fire, that guy; Scratchy's fingers had been reduced to charred bones by his lighter. But almost immediately, Mary started seeing a guy called Vernon. He never tormented us, but God, if you looked up 'smarmy cunt' in the dictionary, you would have found his name. Still, however much my heartstrings were torn by the experiences, I never blamed Mary for it. Todd occasionally referred to her as a daft tart, but then, that's what he called all girls. Well, sometimes a daft bint or a daft slapper or a daft bitch, but always a daft something. But I convinced myself that Mary had no choice to go out with these horrible guys. One day, however, she would be free from them, and then she and I would get together. In the meantime, there were slight distractions. Free from the bullies, I started to like school. Made a few mates besides Scratchy, more or less abandoned him. Being his protector was no fun; getting on the teachers' nerves and persecuting the girls and kicking a ball around was better. I was never really interested in football, mind. Playing was ok, but I never went to matches, only watched them on TV if there was nothing better to do. I was more into cars. But life went on. Then towards the end of Year 7, Todd asked me if I had a bird, as he phrased it. I didn't. Apart from Mary, I had no interest in girls. The ones in my year were all mousy and giggly. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have talked to one without all her friends saying, "Ooh! He fancies you!" so I threw their pencil cases onto the roof of the science block instead. "I'll get you one, then," he said. "Can't have a fuckin poof for a brother." It looked like I didn't have any choice in the matter. The next day, he said, "Right, I've got you a bird. Fuckin dog if you ask me, but those are the only ones without any fuckin standards." "Who is she?" I asked. "Mingin slag in Year 8. Dunno what she's called but doesn't fuckin matter, does it? You feel her up and fuck her, that's all there is to it. No fuckin kissing or going out or poofy shite, ok? Make sure everyone fuckin knows about it, mind. Like I said, fuckin mingin whore, but she's older than you, so you're sorted. She's comin over in ten minutes." Her name was Carol and she had greasy hair and spots and she was fat and flat-chested. Made me look like fucking Adonis in comparison, although she was repulsed by me as I was by her. "Falks never said you were nine fucking years old!" she hissed when she saw me. Cheeky fucking bitch. Still, I thought I owed Todd for rescuing me from Brian and his lot, so I was stuck with her. She'd probably never get a shag in her life any other way, so she went along with it too. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, but neither did she. Afterwards she said it was crap, but I just told her it was crap for me too. She went home and I had a wank over Mary. But we had to keep up with this, for Todd's benefit. Turned out he was saving her from bullies as well, in return for the favour. We talked a bit, you see, to make it worthwhile. Mostly we just insulted each other, but she was ok, in a strange way. At any rate, I got used to her. Shagging got better too. It was all about stretching my imagination, making myself believe she was Mary. She pretended I was Tom Cruise. How fucking sad is that? Then I got sick of it. Really really fed up. The same person, the same routine, every fucking day. It was nice at first, the respect I got from my classmates (hers just called her desperate), but that had worn off. I asked Todd if I could have someone else. He laughed. "Course you can, ya daft cunt, but you're going to have to find 'em yourself! I'm not your fucking matchmaker." So that was the end of that plan. So I went along with it for over two fucking years. Then Todd left school, after his GCSEs, and moved out as well. Went to live with some mates of his. I practically never saw him after that, so there didn't seem much point in sticking with Carol. She was better looking by then - well, she was fifteen - but I didn't want to end up fucking marrying her or something. She was as glad to escape as I was. At least, that's what she said. Year 10 was fucking sound. Even without Todd around, no cunt gave me any hassle. The other person who wasn't around anymore was Mary, she'd gone to university, but I practically forgot about her. The girls my own age had grown up. They had tits and you could actually talk to them and they got pissed silly at parties and gave us blow jobs, which was sound since Carol never had. I never had a girlfriend, but that was sound too. It was liberating. I spent the afternoons doing homework if I could be arsed, watching children's telly if I couldn't, then went out in the evenings. We didn't look old enough to get into pubs or whatever, but there were other things to do. We sat in the park, smoking fags and joints and drinking beer, courtesy of Smithy's sister Courteney who was nineteen and the most sorted bird I ever met. Sometimes, if we could be arsed, we uprooted phone booths and went joyriding. That was fucking excellent. Then at the weekends people had parties. It was kind of weird though, without Todd around. I didn't exactly miss him, but he was better at talking to Mum than I was. I mean, he insulted her, but he did at least try to include her in conversations. I treated her like an invalid, speaking slowly and simply to her, even though I didn't mean to. She never objected, mind. I saw him around sometimes, though. I'd be loitering on the streets, and he and some of his mates would swagger past. He always said hello to me - well, "Awright?" to be strictly accurate - but that was it. Still, we were equals, sort of. We even had the same name now, people called me Falksy too. I wondered how he spent his time. Did he have a job or what? Mum didn't know. It was only one Saturday morning when he came to visit us, out of the blue, that I found out part of it. "I'm going to the football this afternoon," he told Mum. "Footballssss," she said. "Yeah," he said. "I go every week. Every home match anyway." She turned to me. "Do you go to footballssss?" she asked. She really didn't know. "Nah," I said. "I don't see the attraction." Without realising it, I was talking to Todd. "I mean, it's poofy isn't it, really? Watching blokes kick a fuckin ball around. The birds in my year like football, well some of 'em. The rest like rugby and cricket. But they've all got blokes in 'em. I'd rather watch women's gymnastics any day. That or ice skating. Or swimming." It was only when I'd finished that I realised I'd indirectly accused Todd of being poofy. But to my shock, he didn't take offence. "Yeah, it is poofy," he said. "But it's not about the players, ya daft cunt! It's the violence. That's the fuckin spirit of the thing." So my brother was now a football hooligan. It surprised me, he never used to be into anything besides birds. If anything, I thought violence was more poofy than football itself. I mean, it was contact, wasn't it, with other blokes. I decided against mentioning that though. He turned to Mum. "I hurt outsiders," he explained. "Foreigners." "Hurt foreignerssss," Mum repeated. "Good boyssss." What a freak.
I didn't give a fuck, though. I left
them conversing, spent ten minutes lacing up my boots, then went
into town.
"It's my fuckin room," he said. "Fuckin bastards have fucked off to France and I can't be fucked paying their rent." Presumably he meant his mates, the guys he lived with. "France?" I asked. "What about the football?" "Footy, ya poofy cunt! Well, it's fuckin summer isn't it? No fuckin matches here till August. They'll come back then." "Oh," I said. I did know that, I'd just forgotten. "Ya still fucking that bird?" he asked. "Nah," I said. Best to tell the truth now, since there was no way I was going to fuck her again for the next two months just to keep him happy. "Fucking dog. Seeing other birds, mind." I hadn't a shag since Carol; none of the birds in my year were into that. But like I said they gave blow jobs and let us finger them, and that was good enough for now. "Best fuckin way," he agreed.
I'd been to a party the previous night and because I'd been too drunk to walk, I'd just stayed at the house where it had been. But the following morning, I didn't feel hungover in the slightest. Maybe I was still pissed. I went home, my senses heightened. It was a nice day, blue sky and white clouds, and the town somehow wasn't its usual oppressive self. And just as I was turning the corner onto my street, I saw Mary coming towards me. "Hiya!" she said cheerfully. What? She knew who I was? I couldn't believe this. Why would she have ever noticed me, four years younger than her in a big school? "Hi Mary," I said, too surprised to answer with my usual, "Awright?" "How's it going?" she said. God. She was still as beautiful as ever, if not more so. She was thinner, I noticed, but it suited her. "Um, great," I answered, again using a poofy word instead of "sound". "How are you?" There I went again. How gay was I? "Oh, fine," she said. "So, do you have a girlfriend?" What?!? "Nah," I said. At least I'd got that much right, even though it might not be true for much longer. At the party I'd got off with some girl I didn't know and I'd got her phone number. I intended to make use of it too. She was fuckin fit and I fancied a shag. "That's a shame," she said. "You're a nice lad." Nice. I thought of the cars I'd driven round the estates, the old women I'd yelled at, the number of times I'd said, "I'd shag the arse off that." What did she know? "Much nicer than your brother." I was about to analyse that statement, when something struck me. Painfully, smack in the chest, almost knocking me over. What was she doing round here, anyway? Surely- oh, fuck, no, she hadn't just been with Todd, had she? "Tell you what," she continued. "I'll go out with you when you're a bit older." "Um, sound," I said, my thoughts reeling. What had she said? "Great. Well, I'll see ya around." "Bye," I said. And as we walked past each other, the first words that occured to me were, "Fuckin daft tart." I mean, she'd been with Brian, Gareth, Vernon, probably my brother, and fuck knows how many other people, and now she wanted to go out with me as well? Silly slapper. It was the first negative thought I'd had about her. But still, she was fuckin fit. Wouldn't kick it out of bed. So when I got back to the flat and found Todd sitting on his bed, I said, "Guess what? Mary Somerville's going to go out with me." "Dream on," he mumbled. Not "wank on" as he'd always said. "No, really," I said. "Right," he agreed. There was definitely something strange
about my brother that day.
Even when the football season started again, he didn't go back to live with his mates. Sometimes he was out for the night, but I didn't ask where he went, and he was never away for more than two days. He went to a couple of matches, then got sick of them. The only thing he was really into were nightclubs. "The music," he said, dazed. "The drugs and everything. Good shit." He sounded like Mum. But then he stopped going to those as well. He ate a lot; drank, but didn't go down the pub like me; got fat. And never brought birds back. I didn't know what had gotten into him, but I didn't give a fuck. The year passed in a blur. I got fake ID and got into pubs and clubs, took speed and E and acid, got off with birds, fucked a few. One actually said I was a good shag! How chuffed was I? Those years with Carol hadn't been in vain after all. Fucked up my mocks, told the careers advisers I didn't have a clue what I was doing next year and that I didn't give a fuck either. I was well fed up with school. All the teachers kept going on about how much potential I had, but fuck them, I thought. Something well freaky happened just before the GCSEs. Scratchy, still tormented by the older blokes, shot himself in the head in the toilets at school. It was weird. Once I'd been his best mate, now he was dead. Maybe if we'd stayed mates he would still be alive. But it was just a rhetorical musing. I was devoid of emotion, incapable feeling pain, love, hate, anything. When I told Todd, though, he spent about three hours muttering, "Oh shit, oh fuck" over and over again, under his breath. I was finding it harder and harder to understand him. I fucked up the GCSEs and spent the summer partying. I was spending loads of money, taking all Mum's wages the moment she got them, and blowing them on drink and fags and clothes. I was buying new gear, when I ran into Mary in the middle of town. "Hey," she said. "I said I'd go out with you, didn't I? You doing anything tonight?" It didn't mean that much to me, though. I asked her what she wanted to do, go to a pub or club or what, and she said, nah, just a cafe or somewhere we could talk. I couldn't be fucked talking though. She told me about university and I tried to sound interested. I was bored shitless, and the longer I sat opposite her, the less good looking she became. What was so special about her? Just another fucking daft tart. Still, might as well get a shag out of it, so I invited her back to my place. She agreed, just as I'd expected. As we walked back, not saying much to each other, I couldn't help how I'd dreamed about this for so long. But it was nothing special. Todd was right. I had been a daft cunt. When we got to the flat, I found Todd in our room as usual, reading a book. "Awright," I said, "out you go", just as he'd said to me when I was a kid. The tables had turned. Here I was, with a girl four years older than me. The satisfaction was the strongest thing I'd felt for years. He closed the book and stood up. "Why haven't you got a fucking bird anyway?" I asked. "I'll get one for ya if ya can't get one yourself. I can't have a poof for a brother, can I?" As he walked past me and Mary I heard a slight sniffling noise. This was fucking mental! My brother, the hard, terrifying first-class cunt, crying? What the fuck about? And then I made a stunning realisation. He'd fallen in love with Mary.
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