Summerween Chapter 1

Sunny days do strange things to people in the suburbs. Especially in my home town of Port Eventide. I was only a kid back then, for that last summer anyway. Long days stretched out in front of my jelly sandalled feet, calling me to explore. It promised to be a great summer, thanks to a mishap closing my school early, and I was ready to make the most of it. To really feel alive, even though that summer I was surrounded by death.

My street was your standard suburban dream. Tightly packed detached houses with just enough space between that you couldn’t be quite sure if that was a scream you heard next door. A cul-de-sac of similar houses, similar cars and different families. That’s us. We were different but the same, just like everyone else in the suburbs. The street was buzzing with lawnmowers. The way they all come out in droves to make the most of the first sunny day of the year. Just in case that’s all we see of it. British summertime in it’s fresh cut glory.

I’d spent all morning on my front lawn, keeping an eye on the neighbourhood, waiting for my best friend Trip to arrive and blowing up a black and yellow dinghy to take to the beach. By lunchtime my lips were fatigued, my cheeks felt like raisins and the smell of rubbery plastic didn’t leave me until the first barbecue was fired up, causing a domino effect that scented the air with lighter fluid and coal. The damn thing just kept taking all my air and never filled up. I stood, hands on hips like a middle aged woman, bested by this boat.

‘It must have a leak.’ Offered Mr Parker from next door. I shot him my standard straight faced glare, which threw him so much it made me smile inside. He awkwardly continued to water his upright yellow flowers, while occasionally stealing glances at me to see if I’d looked away or smiled. I hadn’t.

He lived with his mother, though nobody saw much of her anymore. For a forty year old man, he certainly seemed to have a lot of time on his hands. He was always lingering around outside, gardening and trying to talk to people. My mum said he was probably lonely, but not to be too chatty with him all the same. He had a little terrier that was always by his side. It pains me to say it, but I didn’t even like his dog and a dog had been on my wish list for a long time.

When he’d finally gone inside, I went to get my bike kit to fix the dinghy. Nan was in the kitchen tidying up, I couldn’t help but grab a hug of her big body as I walked past. She was like the bestest cuddly toy you could win at the fair and all of her kids and grand-kids loved nothing more than having a hug with her, preferably sat on her knee, regardless of how old they were. She and Grandad lived with us – one big, happy family.

The hug disarmed her slightly, so I rummaged in the draw – through keys, batteries, elastic bands, loose change and other junk until I found the key to the garage. I slipped it into my pocket as I closed the drawer, my eyes meeting hers.

‘I’m just going to get my bike kit out of the garage.’ I assured her, my face burning.

‘You know I’m not supposed to let you have that.’ She said, pointing at the key in my hand.

‘There isn’t even anyone here for me to lock in there!’ She didn’t care. She hated that kid just as much as everyone else round here. And it was only 8 hours. That’s not even a full day.

‘Tinker.’ She smiled at me as I breezed out. I had my back turned, but I knew it was a smile because it always was.

The light flickered on in the garage as I conducted my usual scan for creepy crawlies, monsters and pedos. It seemed safe, but I left the door open anyway. Just in case I needed to be out of there fast. My dad’s cold metal vice was fixed to the workbench above the drawers. I grabbed it to help me manoeuvre around tea chests into the L-shaped corner with all the shelving and good stuff. I don’t even know why he had it, he never used it. I wondered what he was planning to make or do with it? Maybe it was just one of those things that, as a man, he felt necessary to own. Poor guy.

The workbench was covered in tin cans of all different shapes and sizes. Once they had done their time in the kitchen, they came in here to live in the dark and store things like nuts and bolts. I spotted a tall round can that contained my marbles. I had a matching can indoors that stored all my buttons. Funny how one got to live indoors and the other out here. I decided to free my marbles for the time being, slipping them under my arm.

Right in front of a large hand saw mounted with screws and raw plugs to the breeze block wall, a small tobacco tin held my bike kit. I picked it up, but couldn’t stop looking at the saw. I could take it and build the treehouse I’d always wanted. As I stared in a daze at the serrated edge, the big garage door flew open drowning me in daylight.

‘What are you doing in here, trouble?’ My big brother Trick, asked as he pushed the roller door all the way up. He was nearly 18 and the athletic kind, unlike me, but kind with it. He was one of my best friends.

‘Just getting my bike kit.’ I held it up as proof of fact, like I was a cop showing my badge. We both knew I wasn’t supposed to be in here, but that kid got what was coming to them.

‘Do you need a hand?’

‘I think I’m OK.’

Trick pulled the lawnmower out from between some tea chests with ease. All his rugby training had paid off. It was the old petrol-powered metal type, from way before Fly-mo’s and other electric mowers hit the market. It was an absolute tank, and thankfully I’d never been allowed anywhere near it. He filled it up and checked everything was working. He was diligent like that, just how Dad had taught him. My mum would just pull it out, dent a few things, then realise a few lines into mowing that it needed fuel. Sometimes it was fun to watch her struggle.

I went out through the big garage door on to the front garden to continue my endeavours. Trick went round to help our other next door neighbour, Mrs Crinkle, to mow her front lawn. He did that every summer. She was elderly and he was a sucker for a good deed. I stared at him getting the stripes just right. After all, the front lawn is the most seen. It was never intended for the homeowners use, just for passers by to admire. That’s the way, especially in Port Eventide.

Thankfully the puncture in my dinghy was pretty obvious, and I was a dab hand with my trusty kit. Unfortunately for me, as I began blowing it up again, Mr Parker came out to wash his car. Just my luck.

‘You’d be better off with a bike pump you know.’ My gaze didn’t work it’s magic this time, he seemed to think he had the upper hand. I couldn’t let this go unchecked.

‘A bike pump isn’t compatible with a dinghy inlet.’ I diverted my gaze and continued to fill my lungs, forcing the contents through the tiny clear rubber tube. Deep breath after deep breath. I started to feel light headed, but carried on regardless as the jerk from next door watched me.

‘Here, I’ll finish that off for you.’ He walked towards me and was just stepping over the small shrubs separating our land from his.

‘I’m fine.’ I said abruptly.

‘No you’re not.’

‘I’ve had my mouth on it.’ Disgust dripping from my frown.

‘I don’t mind. Give it here.’ He reached his pale arm out as he continued his approach.

Screeching bike tyres braked next to me so loud it sent a small flock of birds flying out of a nearby tree. There was even black rubber tyre marks left on the street, I couldn’t believe a bicycle had it in ‘em. A pink scruffy trainer hit the ground, stopping the bike. I followed it up to see my best friend Cola and it all made sense. Cola, short for Nicola, and I had been inseparable since the first day of school. She almost always wore pink, she was that pretty-pretty blonde type on the outside, but a real bad girl on the inside. If anyone even tried to bully me or mention my weight, they’d have her to answer to.

‘You don’t mind what, Mr Parker?’ She asked him, sounding genuinely curious.

Hesitating, he replied ‘I’m just helping her with her boat.’

‘He wants to blow it up. Even though I’ve had my mouth on it. That’s what he doesn’t mind.’

‘You know what?’ Cola confided in me and Mr Parker. ‘That sounds like something a PEDO would say.’ The ‘o’ in pedo echoed round the neighbourhood, making everyone outside stop and look. Trick stopped the lawn mower and headed towards us, stopping when he saw we had the situation under control. He leaned on the lawn mower handle, keeping an eye on us all the same.

‘Lucky we live in a nice neighbourhood like this then, isn’t it?’ He replied. ‘Not down over the bridge. Eh?’ Mr Parker really hit Cola with that one. Everyone knew she was from the wrong side of town to be my friend, but we didn’t care. He got back to cleaning his car and we ignored him, like we did everyone that didn’t serve us.

We took it in turns to blow up the dinghy, it must have taken thousands of lungfuls, thanks to the second hand smoke we’d both suffered from back then. Trip took massive inhales, blowing them into the dinghy, as I held the ropes to steady it. It was a good sized 2-3 people vessel. I noticed Mrs Crinkle next door bringing bags of things out of her house, while my brother was out in her back garden working away. Cola and I stopped to watch from behind the dinghy.

‘If she’s having a yard sale, she’s going to have some seriously good stuff you know.’ I said.

Mrs Crinkle dragged out what looked like a dead body in bin bags. We both looked on mesmerised.

‘Mr Crinkle?’ Cola offered.

I shrugged. ‘Haven’t seen him in a while.’