Jimmy had to play rugby on Sunday morning and left a note, indicating that he would be back for about 2:00pm. Jodie had stayed in the spare room and Gemma had finally made it upstairs at around seven, by which time Jimmy was fast asleep, in his own bed.
There were other assorted bodies, on the chairs and floor in the living room, but Jimmy did not have time to check any of them for signs of life. He decided he would worry about it after the game.
Andy was the first one to stir after Jimmy’s departure. He had visited the bathroom in the early hours and only made it as far as an armchair in the living room on his return to the garage. John was asleep in an incredibly uncomfortable-looking position in the other armchair and Mike was passed out on the sofa with one of the girls. Andy wondered if his little brother had managed to break his duck the previous night.
But the answer to that could wait.
He needed a drink.
His mouth felt like a small, furry rodent had crawled in during the night, left enough fur and droppings to make the place homely, and then died. No doubt his breath was telling a not dissimilar story.
Andy made his way to the kitchen, nearly stepping on Robert, who had made himself a bed of cushions, on the floor.
The midnight delivery of beer stood largely untouched in the middle of the kitchen floor. The system Jimmy had put in place, to ensure cold bottles from the fridge were replaced with ones from the crates, had fallen down somewhere during the night.
Andy was not in a particularly fussy frame of mind and cracked open a bottle of Becks. Water from the tap would have been a better, and colder, option. But that would have involved the use of a glass, the location of which he did not know, and he would have needed to make at least two trips across the kitchen floor, navigating his way around the cases of beer. He was not sure his mind or body were ready for that. Besides, hair of the dog was the quickest route to recovery.
Mike was next to surface. He did not look or feel too bad, considering. But he had not drunk a huge amount, dedicating most of his evening to sweet talking Alison, with whom he had managed a little kiss and a cuddle, before they fell asleep together on the sofa. Nothing to interest his older brother, that’s for sure.
“Should I be congratulating you on finally becoming a man?” Andy asked, as Mike wandered into the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” Mike replied. “Should I be congratulating you on becoming a druggie again?”
“Oh, shut up, Mum, with your holier-than-thou attitude.”
“Seriously? You know you can get us all kicked out of school for messing with that stuff. And that’s if you’re lucky. What if Dad finds out?”
“How is Dad going to find out? I just had a little smoke at a party. That’s all. It’s not like I’m buying it again or anything.”
“Just don’t start getting involved with those guys. You’re in your last year. Wait until you get to uni.”
Despite being the younger of the two, Mike was the more sensible of the Gibson brothers. At their previous school, Andy had been caught in possession of cannabis and suspected of dealing. He was only fourteen at the time, and so no criminal charges were brought against him, but it was a very embarrassing and almost career-ending situation for their father.
Fortunately for Officer Stanley “Blade” Gibson, so named because of the connection to Stanley Knives, he knew someone on the board at Bankside who had also served in the Royal Marines. Strings were pulled to enable him to continue teaching geography, physical education and climbing and his boys were admitted via one of the many scholarship programmes made available to members of staff.
Without that safety net, his teaching days would have been at an end, with nothing but private security consultancy to look forward to. So, if either of his boys violated the rules at Bankside? Let’s just say they were of the opinion that being caught by the police was a preferable option.
“I’m cool, Baby Bro,” Andy hoped to rest Mike’s mind. “I’m not going to mess anything up for any of us. Trust me.”
“I really want to,” Mike said. “But that’s what you said when you told me you would never smoke that shit again.”
They were interrupted by Alison, who came and put her arm around Mike’s neck, pretending to strangle him.
“Hello, you!” She released her grip and put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”
“What did you have in mind?” Mike asked.
“I was thinking all-day breakfast at The Tea Rooms.”
“Sounds good. How are you getting back, later?”
“My dad will pick me up from town. You?”
“I haven’t thought about it. Any idea how we’re getting back?” Mike wasn’t sure if Andy had made plans with their parents.
“I haven’t got a clue. But there’s plenty of beer here, Jimmy’s dad isn’t back tonight and I don’t have class until eleven twenty-five tomorrow. So, I guess I’ll just chill here for a while.” Andy’s answer did not fill his little brother with confidence.
“Just don’t... you know... don’t be an arsehole.” Mike pleaded.
“I told you.” Andy opened his second breakfast beer. “Trust me.”
§
By the time Jimmy got back from rugby, the whole house was on the move. Quite how awake some of the moving bodies were, Jimmy couldn’t tell, but they had all made it as far as the kitchen. Andy, John and Robert all had beers on the go and Gemma and Jodie were drinking cups of tea.
“What have you all got planned for today?” Jimmy asked. “There’s plenty here that needs drinking. Or
perhaps you want to go out somewhere?”
“I’m having this one and heading home.” Robert announced. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I’ve things to get done.”
“I can give you a lift,” Gemma said. “I need to get back, too.”
Jimmy didn’t say anything about the fact that Robert only lived a couple of streets away. Or that the two of them had looked quite friendly in the garage the night before. Because she was giving him free rein.
“Beer sounds good to me,” John was getting settled for the duration.
“I’ll drink to that,” added Andy.
“I’d better make sure we keep the fridge rotation going then,” Jimmy hoped they would take note and be sure to stay on top of things once they started the steady demolition of the beer mountain that awaited them, but he knew he was probably talking for his own benefit.
“I’ll make sure the fridge stays full,” Jodie started shifting things around to make room for more bottles. “Just three customers? I can do that in my sleep.”
“You know you can drink during your shift at Jimmy’s bar, don’t you?”
“That’s very generous of you, boss,” Jodie smiled and nodded at Jimmy. “But I think I’ll stick with tea, for now.”
Robert and Gemma soon departed. Gemma made a point of giving Jimmy a kiss, so that everyone else could see. Was she being sincere? Was she bluffing to cover her intentions with Robert? Did she suspect something? Was she trying to warn Jodie off? Jimmy had no idea. He decided to have another beer. He knew where he stood with beer.
“Have you got any of that black squidge left?” Andy asked John after another couple of bottles. “I fancy a smoke.”
“A little,” John said, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger that he really did mean a little. “But I’m going to pick some more up this evening if you want to come with me. I can introduce you.”
“No, I can’t get involved with any buying or selling,” Andy had, at least, paid a small amount of attention to his little brother. “Jimmy, perhaps you could go with him?”
“You want me to buy drugs for you?” Jimmy had never heard anything quite so absurd in his entire life. “Are you completely insane?”
“I’ll pay you a bit extra, if you get me some,” Andy said.
Jimmy did not like the idea of buying drugs for Andy, but if there was some easy money to be made, perhaps he was being a bit hasty in turning down the opportunity before finding out the facts.
“Why can’t you go yourself?” Jimmy wanted more details.
“I got caught with some at my old school. My dad had to quit his job and move to Bankside. I can’t risk getting caught again.”
“But if I buy you some, aren’t you still risking getting caught?”
“I thought maybe you could keep it for me? And when I want a smoke I can come down here.”
“Which planet do you live on? My dad’s in London this weekend, but most of the time he works from home.”
“I don’t mean I want to skin up in your house, every time I want a joint, I just thought you could hang on to it for me.”
“How much do you want, anyway? How much does it cost?”
“I don’t know. How much is an eighth, John?”
John was in the process of building a joint on the kitchen table. He had put together his papers and was carefully rolling out some of the remaining black, oily lump into a long, thin sausage, to avoid burning anything in the house and causing a smell.
“For some squidgy black like this it’s fifteen quid for an eighth,” John explained. “But it depends what people have got. Sometimes it’s this, sometimes it’s pollen press, sometimes there’s some skunk about, you never know.”
“Fifteen quid?” Jimmy’s bubble had been burst. “You want me to go running around buying drugs for a measly fifteen quid? And what’s the commission on that? A pint? A bag of crisps?”
“What do you mean?” Andy was taken back by the outburst.
“I thought there would be some money in it. If I’m going to take a risk for you, buy you drugs and risk going to jail, I thought...” Jimmy was interrupted by John’s laughter.
“Jail? Hah! I think you’re getting yourself a bit confused.” John had a bit of experience where buying cannabis was concerned. “The police don’t care about a little bit of personal. There’s no risk involved in getting Andy an eighth. If you did get caught and questioned, which you won’t, you just say it’s yours. They’ll confiscate it and you’ll be out of pocket but that’s it, unless you’ve managed to really piss them off somehow.”
“I thought drugs were really expensive,” Jimmy’s knowledge of drugs covered only his drug of choice: alcohol.
“You’re probably thinking of cocaine.” John guessed some of Jimmy’s mates at Bankside had given him his information. “It’s not something in my price range and I wouldn’t touch it even if I could afford it. Oh, and it’s the class ‘A’s that will get you into jail.”
“So, if I go with you this evening...” Jimmy’s curiosity was getting the better of him, “will you show me where to buy cannabis?”
“If there are people at The Lion I know, I will introduce you, but don’t start asking any stupid questions. Just let me do the talking.”
John had finished putting the final touches to his masterpiece and got up to go to the garage, closely followed by Andy.
“So, does that mean you’re going to get some for me?” Andy was checking he had read Jimmy’s intentions correctly.
“Yeah, it looks like it.” Jimmy nodded. “Maybe I’m the one who’s completely insane.”
Jimmy had been told to “Just say no!” on kids’ TV, in school, by his parents, on billboards and even on cereal boxes. Anywhere the message could be relayed to children that drugs were bad, he had seen it. But, at his house last night, six of his ten guests had disappeared to the garage, which was both cold and uncomfortable, to get stoned.
“Have you ever smoked cannabis?” Jimmy felt happier to display his ignorance while he only had Jodie for company.
“Yeah, of course.” She shrugged her shoulders, raised her palms, smiled and shook her head as though it was a rather silly question. “If I hadn’t been dying for a proper drink last night, I would have probably been in the garage with those guys.”
“I’m glad you weren’t.”
“So am I. But you’re meant to be with Gemma.”
“What happened last night then?”
“I don’t know. We were both drunk. Maybe it happened because you’re meant to be with Gemma.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a girl thing. We always want what we can’t have. But Gemma’s my friend. It can’t happen again.”
“Oh, right. I’ll just forget about it then. Some friend you are.”
“You’re her boyfriend. I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“I’d hardly call myself her boyfriend. I’ve only known her for a week.”
“She’s told everyone that you are an item.”
“She seemed more interested in that Robert guy, last night.”
“So I was just a jealousy shag?”
“No, not at all. I never know how to speak to you when you’re working. I’ve wanted to for ages. I didn’t know you liked me.”
“Well, now you know. But it still doesn’t change anything.”
“But...” Jimmy’s head was trying to make sense of the Gemma and Jodie situation and becoming more confused each time.
“I could use a smoke now, actually.” Jodie said, changing the subject, just as Jimmy wanted to discuss the matter more. “How about you?”
“Uh... yeah,” Jimmy was too mentally dazed to process a more coherent response to the invitation. Had she used him? Had he used her? Did he want her now? Was he in a relationship? Should he be worried about the friendship between Gemma and Robert? Did he care? Did she care? Perhaps an introduction to drugs was the best option.
“Hello, Jodie! Hello, lightweight!” Andy greeted them in the only way that could be expected after Jimmy’s performance the night before. “Do you want to try some of this?”
“I’ll give it another go.” Jimmy went about it very tentatively, inhaling only small amounts at a time, before passing it on to Jodie.
Jimmy felt no nausea, no dizziness or sense of being out of control, just a rather relaxed, happy sensation. He had stopped worrying about any situation or situations he needed to talk to Gemma about, because he had found a new interest in his beer bottle’s appearance and contents.
§
John and Jimmy got to The Red Lion just after seven o’clock. Pubs were allowed to open all day on weekdays, but on Sundays they had to close. The Sunday hours had given Jimmy, John and Andy time for more beers and bacon sarnies at Knight Towers, while Jodie had stuck with tea and toast. John’s hash supply had been exhausted after only a couple of joints but it had still been enough to give everyone the munchies.
The Red Lion, two miles from Jimmy’s, in Kington, was already busy when they arrived. Some of the customers were probably waiting outside when the landlord unlocked the doors at seven. It was split into three separate and very distinct areas, each catering for different clientèle.
The regulars’ bar had an almost all male contingent of married, forty-plus, real-ale drinkers. They were all busy putting the world to rights, reading newspapers or doing crosswords.
In the middle was the snug bar, which was home to those regulars who neither felt old enough for the regulars’ bar, nor able to handle the pace of the conservatory any more. Your mid-twenties to mid-thirties singles could be found in the snug.
The conservatory was where you could find the underage drinkers, hiding in the corners, and drinking pints of snakebite. It had a number of arcade games, a jukebox and a table football machine, making it look more like a student common room than part of a licensed establishment.
And then you had the beer garden.
The beer garden at The Red Lion was always busy, even in the middle of winter. The landlord’s interpretation of on the premises only extended to the regulars’ bar and snug bar areas. He’d found a loophole in the licensing laws that enabled him to have kids as young as fourteen in the conservatory, because it did not have an alcohol-serving counter. He could also turn a blind eye to whatever happened in the beer garden.
Children, under the age of fourteen, were not allowed on licensed premises at all. There was no actual bar in the conservatory, so it was not considered to be on licensed premises. However, the drinkers in the conservatory still had to walk through the snug bar to reach the toilets, which were on licensed premises, or I am sure the landlord would have had toddlers running around in the conservatory, too.
At fourteen, a child was allowed on the premises if accompanied by an adult of eighteen years. An adult could purchase off sales for consumption off the premises, such as the conservatory or beer garden. This meant that the landlord could only ever be prosecuted if the police caught him, or one of his staff, selling alcohol to a minor in one of the licensed areas. This was unlikely as the youngsters knew the rules and would ask one of the eighteen-year old members of staff, who were employed to work in the conservatory as accompanying adults, to buy their beer for them. And the staff behind the counter knew not to sell directly to the minors.
Jimmy was of the opinion that the loophole probably only existed in the landlord’s head and the real reason he was allowed to indirectly sell alcohol to minors was because there was never any trouble, most of the kids’ parents knew where to find them, and all the local policemen in the town drank in the regulars’ bar.
But it wasn’t alcohol that was being sold in the beer garden.
“I’ll go and see if Roly’s here,” said John, as they got out of Jodie’s car. “Get me a pint and I’ll see you in the conservatory.”
Jodie had agreed to drop them off and pick them up again at eight. She wanted to go back to her house quickly, to let her mum know she was okay, and get showered and changed. She was still in her work clothes from The Crown.
Jimmy ordered two pints through one of the accompanying adults. He was sure he could have just bought them himself in the snug bar, but why take the chance when there was a working system in place.
“He’s not here yet.” John joined Jimmy in the conservatory. “But I’ve left a message that I want to see him. He should be here soon.”
“Jodie’s coming back for us at eight.”
“Give him a few minutes, the pub’s only just opened.”
“Do you always get it from him? Here?”
“Yeah, as long as he’s got some.”
“What if he hasn’t got any?”
“He’ll have some when he gets here. That’s why I’ve left a message.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Okay... Roly comes down here every night, at about seven o’clock, with a couple of ounces, cut into eighths. It’s fifteen quid for an eighth. He doesn’t deal in anything bigger or anything smaller. Once he’s sold out, he’s sold out. He doesn’t go shopping for anyone, he doesn’t refer anyone to anyone else. He sells his eighths, that’s it.”
“But if he’s selling out every night, surely he’s missing out?”
“He doesn’t care. That’s the way it is. The message I left for him was ‘John the Baptist, two’. The first time I met him I was wearing a cross, so I’m John the Baptist. And tonight I want two eighths. I have already given the money to his mate in the beer garden and told him we’re in the conservatory. When Roly gets here, he’ll put the orders left with his mate to one side, then it’s first come first served.”
“So everyone in the beer garden must know he sells drugs?”
“Everyone in the beer garden is either buying or selling drugs. Why else do you suppose they are sat out there in this weather?”
“Why don’t the police do anything?”
“I’ve told you already, the police don’t care about people smoking dope. They have got more important things to do.”
“But if I go and talk to him in the beer garden, everyone will know that I am buying drugs.”
“I’m sorry? Are you famous? Will the press be out there waiting for you? Watch my lips. Nobody cares!”
Jimmy was a little worried but, most of all, he was excited. He had an adrenaline buzz going through his body. Despite what John had told him about nobody caring and there being no danger of getting caught, he knew that what he was about to do was illegal. Not just underage drinking illegal, but kicked out of school and criminal record illegal.
And Jimmy liked the buzz.
“Hey, John!” A guy in his early twenties walked into the conservatory, patted John on the back and sat down next to him. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jimmy. He’s with me. He’s cool.”
“Okay. Didn’t want to say anything without checking. Roly’s out the back now if you want to pick up your gear.”
“I want to introduce Jimmy, too. If that’s alright?”
“New customer, eh?” The man Jimmy assumed to be Roly’s mate and taker of orders held out a gloved hand. “My name’s Tim. But most people know me as Mappa because there are too many Tims.”
“Hi, I’m Jimmy.” He shook Mappa’s hand and wished that he had something to add to the introduction. Something like: ‘Hi, I’m Jimmy... but most people call me The Terminator.’ But ‘Jimmy’ would have to do until he had made a name for himself as an invincible, time-travelling, cyborg, killing machine.
“Are you coming out now?” Mappa asked John. “I need to give Roly a heads up about your friend.”
“Yeah, we’ll hang back until you give us the nod.”
Jimmy and John went out the back to the beer garden but waited by the door. Mappa spoke to Roly and then beckoned them over.
“John the Baptist.” Roly nodded his greeting and gestured to the table.
“Roly.” John nodded back and sat down.
“You’ve been preaching, I see. Spreading the word.” Roly was talking to John, but looking at Jimmy.
“Pardon?” John took a while to catch on. Roly had nicknamed him John the Baptist. Preaching? Spreading the word? Of course. “Oh, yes, sorry, this is Jimmy.”
“Jimmy the Coat.” Roly christened him at first glance. “You don’t see many kids in wool trench coats down here. Make sure you wear it the next few times until I get to know you.”
“Sure, no problem.” Jimmy wanted a nickname, he’d got a nickname.
Roly wasn’t what Jimmy had expected. He looked about sixty-years old, with long, grey hair. He let his hair just hang down, naturally, but for some reason it looked as though it should have been in a ponytail. He was clean shaven, dressed in smart-casual, blue jeans and black sweater, but with an old, green, army-surplus-style coat over the top that made him look a bit like a hippie or a new age traveller.
“I guess I’ll see you when I see you then, Jimmy the Coat.” Roly had memorised Jimmy as grey, wool, trench coat and slipped the two eighths to John. “Talk to Mappa first and if you pay and don’t pick up, don’t expect any refunds because I’ll smoke it myself. Well, that’s what I plan to do if it ever happens. Nobody has ever paid and not collected their gear.”
“I don’t think I’ll be the first.” Jimmy said.
“Okay, kid.” Roly gave Jimmy a big smile. “Now get outta here.”
John and Jimmy went back into the conservatory. They had time for another beer before Jodie was due at eight and they had achieved everything they had set out to do.
“Well, that’s it. You don’t need me any more,” John told Jimmy. “You just need to get yourself down here any night for seven and speak to Mappa. He acts as a barrier between Roly and all the dickheads.”
“It’s not what I had expected,” Jimmy admitted.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know.” Jimmy tried to think of the right words. “I guess I thought it would all feel more illegal.”
“This really isn’t gangster territory,” John laughed. “This is just a little, country pub where a few people sell a bit of pot.”
“But some people have gangster nicknames, John the Baptist.”
“That’s absolutely right, Jimmy the Coat. But I think that’s just the way Roly’s memory works.”
“Jimmy the Coat.” Jimmy repeated it out loud to himself, pretending that his hands were handguns, putting on his aggressive, gangster face and squinting his eyes. “Jimmy the Coat.”
Jimmy worked in the restaurant for the remainder of the evenings that week. He had enough cash to spend the weekend in his usual haunts, but Gemma suggested they had a house party, on Saturday night, because Jimmy had the place all to himself.
Jimmy did not know many people to invite to a house party, because almost all the people he knew at Bankside were boarders. Most of his local friends he knew from the rugby club, and he did not want word getting back to Jocky about Gemma, so Jimmy agreed to let Gemma invite some of her friends along to make up the numbers.
Jimmy invited Jack Randle, one of his partners in crime from Momo’s, the weekend before, and Jack confirmed he would invite a couple more day pupils from Bankside, who he said were sound, so Jimmy decided that would be enough. Somewhere between eight and ten people would more than fill the seating in the living room.
Everyone was told to bring their own booze. Jimmy bought a couple of low-cost cases of beer and some cheap bottles of sparkling wine, to leave in the kitchen, for anyone who ran out or turned up empty handed. He also bought himself a case of Stella Artois, which he hid in the garage.
Guests had been told to arrive at nine o’ clock, which gave Jimmy time to pop down to The Crown for a few pints first.
“What time’s this party of yours kicking off, Jimmy?” Asked Jodie, one of the bar staff, when Jimmy ordered a drink.
“I’m not having a party. A couple of friends are coming over at nine o’ clock. Who told you there was a party?”
“Some of my friends from college are going. I can’t come until after I finish my shift, though. So I won’t be there before twelve.”
“Which friends? Do I know them?”
“I doubt it. We all go to the same agricultural college as Gemma.”
Jimmy was worried his little social gathering had been promoted as some kind of annual barn dance and he was going to have a house full of young farmers, getting drunk on cider and vomiting all over the place.
“How many people has Gemma invited?”
“I’m not sure, maybe four or five people.”
“Male or female?”
“All girls, of course, you’re supposed to be inviting the boys.”
“What has Gemma told you about tonight?”
“She said there’ll be loads of cute guys from Bankside there.”
“Oh. Right. I’ll see you there later then.” Jimmy really needed to speak to Gemma, but they had arranged to see each other at the house at nine.
Finding teenage boys to come to a party because there were too many girls should have been a very straightforward task. But Jimmy did not know who he could call. He was expecting Jack at The Crown at eight, plus the two friends he said he could vouch for, but that still meant they were short. They would have to get busy on the phone at Jimmy’s house to boost male numbers.
Jack arrived at The Crown just after eight, with Mike and Andy Gibson. Mike was in the year above Jimmy and Andy was in his final year.
“And then there were four,” Jimmy said, as introductions were made. He knew the Gibsons from school, but not socially. He was more used to seeing their father in The Crown on Saturday nights, when he was clearing out the boarders at ten o’ clock. “I haven’t seen you two in here on a Saturday before.”
“It’s a bit awkward if Dad’s working,” said Mike. “But Jack said we’re all going to your place. We’ve picked up some beer.” He held up a couple of bags and Andy was carrying a third.
“Do you want a quick one here?” Jimmy asked. “Or shall we just head up to the house?”
“I think we’d rather just get going.” Jack looked at the others who were nodding, in confirmation.
Jimmy explained the situation while they walked and they joked about the male to female ratio, excluding Jimmy, who was spoken for. Jimmy pointed out to Jack that his amore from Momo’s might well be among the invitees and that he should not be counting any chickens.
Andy knew a couple of other day pupils, whose parents also worked at the school, as did Mike, and they did not think they would have any difficulty in getting them to come over, if needed, but they wanted to meet the girls first. If they were all hot, then no problem. If there were only one or two cute ones then they wanted to be sure not to invite any guys who might spoil their chances. Jimmy could not argue with the logic. He was just glad that he had some options.
At the house, they all grabbed a beer and made themselves comfortable in the living room. Waterfront Beat, a police series, set in the Liverpool docks, was on BBC1, but nobody was paying any attention to the TV as they were all busy talking.
Jimmy was surprised at how quickly he bonded with the two Gibson boys. They were both bright, in the top class brackets for their respective years, and took great joy in telling stories about and impersonating their father. But there was obviously a lot of respect for him, too. Jimmy doubted that either of them took the mickey in his presence. His reputation in the school, for still thinking he was in the Royal Marines, extended into his family life and the boys had to remind him on occasions that he was their dad, not their drill sergeant.
The conversation soon moved to sport. All four of them were regulars in the school gym. Jimmy worked out because he played rugby two or three times a week and the Gibsons because they were both keen footballers. Jack was not actually involved in any competitive sport, so the Gibsons decided that he was gay and just liked looking at the bodybuilders.
“We’ll soon see who’s gay,” Jack said, not giving them the satisfaction of biting. “What time are the girls getting here, Jimmy?”
“They were supposed to be here at nine, but there’s no hurry.” Jimmy reassured him. “The barmaid from The Crown isn’t going to be here until after her shift, and wherever the rest of them are, they will be getting pissed, so they should be feeling friendly by the time they get here.”
“Which barmaid is coming?” Jack asked.
“Jodie. The sexy blonde one.” Jimmy had always fancied her and rather wished that he was free to do some flirting of his own tonight. “I’ve told her she can ask the other staff, too.”
“I thought you already had a bird coming tonight, Jack?” Andy reminded him. “I might have to look after the barmaid for you.”
“Mandy might be coming,” said Jack. “But we’re not going out or anything. I can still have a crack at something else.”
“Good luck with that!” Andy laughed.
“Maybe they will bring a nice boy along for you, eh Jack?” Mike was still trying to get a bite. “A bodybuilder, perhaps?”
Jack just gave a long sigh, shook his head and waved a middle finger in Mike’s direction.
“When was the last time you got laid, Bro?” Andy had decided it was time to pick on his little brother.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Who wants another beer?” Mike’s face and body language told the story, as he got up and headed to the kitchen. He was smiling but in a resigned way, which said ‘I’m a virgin and I don’t need my brother to remind me in front of everybody again.’
Jack was very quick to jump on the bandwagon and followed him into the kitchen giving him some abuse in return for the gay jibes.
“I think Jack only lost his last week,” Jimmy said. He and Andy were the only two left in the living room. “But you’d think he was into double figures already, listening to him.”
“I had a long-term girlfriend in the fifth year,” Andy told Jimmy. “So we ended up having sex when we were both still fifteen.”
“Fourteen here.” Jimmy said. But not wanting to sound boastful, he added: “Not that it’s anything to be proud of. The girl in question has been responsible for at least ten first timers.”
“Sounds like a classy bird,” Andy grinned. “Do you still have her number?”
§
It was gone ten o’ clock when Gemma arrived, with her friends from the agricultural college. At least that is where they were supposed to be from. Besides Gemma, there were four more girls and two guys. Jimmy did not know any of them and Jack’s little friend from the week before was not among them, which meant Jack could flirt to his heart’s content. But, more importantly, none of them had brought anything to drink.
“Why hasn’t anybody brought any booze?” Jimmy took Gemma to one side and asked her. “This isn’t a freebie for your mates.”
“Don’t worry.” Gemma was already slurring her words. “Jodie is going to bring some from The Crown, later.”
“That isn’t for another two hours.” Jimmy was not pleased she had deviated from the original plan of arriving at nine, with alcohol. “There’s enough beer, but do you expect two bottles of wine to last that long?”
“Don’t be such a party pooper. Your dad has more wine and stuff.”
“No, he fucking doesn’t,” Jimmy was losing his temper. “And if any of those muppets go anywhere near it, everybody’s leaving... including you.”
Gemma just brushed past him and went to join her friends.
The party soon shifted from the living room to the kitchen. That was where the wine and beer could be found, and it was soon descended upon by the new arrivals. The kitchen, therefore, was where the girls were, and they were soon descended upon by Jack, Andy and Mike.
Jimmy was quite happy for people to stay in the kitchen, where he could watch over proceedings. There was less chance of anything getting damaged and spillages in the kitchen were easily dealt with.
He soon realised that his initial reaction was a bit over the top. Probably brought about by the fact that there were two guys in the group. Everyone was chatting away merrily, they were only drinking the cheap beer and he had two cases of that to last until Jodie arrived with reinforcements.
Jimmy found out that the two guys were not from the same agricultural college, but had just been chatting with the girls when it was time for them to go. The girls invited them along and, naturally, when five girls asked them if they wanted to go to a party, they jumped at the chance.
Robert only lived a couple of streets away and went to the same local college as Jimmy’s sister. John, his friend, lived in a town a few miles away and was staying with Robert overnight. It was John who asked Jimmy if he could smoke.
“No, sorry, you’ll have to go outside,” Jimmy told him. “I’ll open the back door to the patio for you.”
“Okay, thanks.” John was waving a small, metal tin at Jimmy. “Is it alright if I skin up inside, though?”
Jimmy recognised the picture of the leaf on the tin as a cannabis leaf. He was quite a Bob Marley fan and even had a picture of him, smoking a huge joint, on the wall in his bedroom. But he had never encountered its use first hand and was not sure about people taking drugs at his house.
“Hang on a minute, would you?” Jimmy needed some advice. He went into the living room to find Andy, who was busy chatting up one of Gemma’s friends. “Sorry to bother you, mate. Can I have a word?”
“What’s up?” Andy got up from where he was seated and followed Jimmy into the hall.
“One of those guys wants to skin up, in the house.” Jimmy was looking rather concerned. “Is that safe?”
“Nice!” Andy’s face lit up. “Someone’s got some smoke. Come on, I’ll look after him.”
Jimmy introduced the two of them and Andy suggested they might be better off in the garage, where a little bit of mess or smell would not be noticed and where there was no danger of the neighbours noticing anything suspicious. Jimmy showed them to the garage, where they pulled up a couple of garden chairs and made use of an overturned box as a table. Jimmy stayed to watch, too, out of curiosity.
John set to work with his Rizzla cigarette papers, sticking three together to make one large one. He then took out a small, black rock and started to burn it at one end. After heating the rock for a few seconds, he pinched some of it off and crumbled it into the cigarette paper. He did this a few more times, before adding the tobacco from a cigarette, and a little piece of rolled up cardboard, torn from the cigarette packet, at one end. Finally, he picked it all up and rolled it into a very professional-looking joint, which was not dissimilar to the picture in Jimmy’s bedroom, albeit a little bit smaller than Bob Marley’s.
“Do you want to light it,” John was offering the joint to Jimmy.
“No, not for me. I don’t smoke.”
“This isn’t like smoking a cigarette.” John was still waving it in Jimmy’s direction. “Just try it. If you don’t like it, just hand it back.”
“Okay, why not?” Jimmy wanted to see what all the fuss was about drugs and why they were so bad for you. He lit the joint and drew in the smoke. It made him cough, at first, but he took another drag and it did not seem quite so bad the second time. He took a few more puffs and started to feel dizzy so he handed it to Andy.
Almost immediately, Jimmy went from dizzy to not-so-good.
And from not-so-good to quite ill.
He made his excuses, left the garage and headed back through the kitchen.
Jimmy was feeling terrible.
He half ran, half staggered up the stairs to the bathroom, where he just made it to the toilet before he was violently sick. After a few seconds, he got up and closed and locked the door, to prevent anyone else stumbling in on him. He then returned to the bowl, where he was sick again.
Jimmy had passed out in the bathroom for a while. When he came to, he cleaned the toilet, gave his teeth a quick brush and washed his face. He was feeling much better again but he failed to see the attraction with smoking cannabis. He vowed to stick with beer for the rest of the evening.
Back downstairs, the kitchen was looking empty. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, chatting to one of the girls, but that was it. The living room told the same story, where Mike was talking to another of Gemma’s friends, but they were the only two.
Jimmy went to get another Stella from the fridge in the garage to discover that John and Andy had been joined by Robert, Gemma and the other two girls. Bits of carpet and a pile of old newspapers provided improvised seating, where garden chairs had run out, and everyone was looking very comfortable in the smoking den.
“Don’t mind me,” Jimmy said, as he made his way to the fridge, stepping over limbs where necessary. “I’m just getting a beer.”
“Keeping the good stuff for yourself, eh?” John remarked when Jimmy pulled out a cold Stella.
“Damned right, I am.” Jimmy said. “But the shop’s still open if the free stuff isn’t good enough for you.”
“Good point, well made.” John smiled back. He was not in the mood to go to the shop after smoking a few joints. He offered the one that was circulating to Jimmy again: “Do you want some of this?”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” Jimmy said. He noticed everybody in the garage was looking at him. “I’ll just stick with the beer.”
“Have you recovered now?” John asked him, accompanied by the sound of muffled laughs from the other guests. “You looked like you pulled a bit of a whitey earlier.”
They all burst out laughing. Jimmy’s initial reaction to smoking a joint was clearly very funny in their stoned little heads. But they were all finding it a great deal more amusing than Jimmy thought was necessary.
“Hey, John!” Jimmy shouted above the noise. "Remind me to cross you all off any future party invitations.” Jimmy took his beer back to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” Someone shouted after him.
“No, I bloody won’t,” Jimmy mumbled to himself.
Jack was just getting another couple of his beers for himself and his lady friend when Jimmy walked back through the kitchen.
“Why don’t we open the wine for the girls,” Jimmy suggested. “Would you prefer a glass of wine?” He asked the girl at the table.
“Ooh, yes please.” She handed the can of beer back to Jack.
“Go and sit in the living room.” Jimmy instructed them. I’ll get some glasses and bring the wine through in a minute.”
Jimmy opened the wine and got glasses for the two girls. He was able to play the good host to the ladies whilst cock blocking Jack and Mike at the same time. Why should he be the one sat on his own because everyone else was in the garage getting stoned?
“I take it none of you guys smoke weed then?” Jimmy asked, looking around the room. The question was directed at all of them.
They all chose to shake their heads or just mumble, rather than engage in conversation. The two girls were the same age as Jack and Jimmy, so perhaps were not as wild as the older ones. Mike said he had tried it before but had not liked it and Jack said he had no interest in drugs.
Jimmy had been hoping someone would relocate to the garage, to change the balance of the group, so that he did not feel like a gooseberry. He had, at least, hoped that someone would continue the conversation.
“How’s the wine, girls?” Jimmy tried a different line of attack.
“Fine, thank you.”
“Lovely, thanks.”
“Right, well nice talking to you. I think I'll go and check that the fridge is full with beer.” Jimmy knew when his presence was not wanted.
§
There was a knock at the door just before twelve o’ clock. Jimmy had been relaxing in the kitchen, on his own. The door from the garage had opened a few times, when someone wanted another beer or needed to go to the toilet, but they had barely acknowledged him.
Perhaps the new arrivals would liven things up a bit.
“Hi, Jimmy!” Jodie was on her own. “Do you want to give me a hand bringing in the stuff from the car?”
Jimmy followed her to the boot, where there were three crates of bottles. Two of them were full of Beck’s beer and the third was a case of Budweiser. They were all cold because they had come from the cellar. Jodie had also brought more bottles of wine, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of Jack Daniels, plus coke and lemonade mixers.
“Whoa!” Jimmy was not expecting her to bring that much. “How much did this lot set you back, Jodie?”
“Actually, the vodka and the Jack Daniels are bottles left over from my birthday, I just need to replace the wine and beer from the bar at cost.”
Jimmy carried the drinks into the kitchen. He left the beer and wine in plain view, but he hid the spirits and mixers in the dining room.
“They’re all in the garage.” Jimmy explained, as Jodie was busy poking her head round the living room door, to see who was about. “They’re all getting stoned.”
“I thought maybe you had lured me here on my own,” Jodie teased. “All the talk of a party was just your way of getting me to your house.”
“No, they’re in the garage if you want to join them.”
“I don’t think so,” Jodie looked offended at the suggestion. “I’ve just finished work. I need a drink!”
“What can I get you?” Jimmy asked.
“Is someone getting me a drink for a change?” Jodie put her hand on Jimmy’s arm. “I could get used to this. Vodka and coke, please.”
“I’ve put the spirits in the dining room,” Jimmy indicated to the door. “I’ll just get some ice and I’ll be with you.”
He got some ice from the freezer in the garage. None of the smokers so much as moved or asked what he was doing.
Gemma had abandoned him to get wasted with her new buddies.
Jimmy decided that two could play at that game. He picked up a couple of clean glasses on the way back through the kitchen, went in to join Jodie in the dining room, and closed the door.
The following week saw Jimmy trying his best to fit in with the students in the quad, who were perceived by their peers as cool.
To attain this status, you had to dress the right way, hang out in the right places, be seen with the right people and, usually, your parents had to be either very famous, very wealthy, or both.
There were other ways to gain quad cred, such as excellence in sport or music, for example. It didn’t necessarily mean that you were classified as cool, but you were, at least, acceptable.
One thing that didn’t gain you any points, however, was intelligence. In order to be respected for being intelligent, you had to also possess a sharp wit, great confidence and be able to win a verbal battle. Students who merely used their intelligence in the classroom to consistently achieve top grades were labelled as geeks, nerds, egg heads, boffins, swats or any number of other unflattering names.
The funniest part about this hierarchy of credibility was that the geeks and nerds would go on to own and rule the companies where the super cool elite would be trying, and failing, to get jobs in the future.
Jimmy was acceptable in the quad, due to his position in the rugby team and his friendship with Xavier. Everyone knew that Jimmy was intelligent, too, because of the class he was in, but very rarely did anyone put it to the test by calling him names. Others had done so, in the past, and lost to Jimmy’s greater intellect and way with words. But Jimmy preferred a physical response, via wedgie, where he forcibly pulled the person’s underwear up to become wedged between their buttocks.
This varied from a light-hearted, comedic prank, requiring the wearer to straighten their clothes afterwards, to a prolonged, embarrassing and painful display, sometimes continuing until the complete destruction and removal of the victim’s underwear had been achieved.
To be on the receiving end was seriously uncool.
Word had spread on the subject of Xavier’s exeat. There were stories about the audacious cigarette, in front of Mr. Gibson, the massive brawl at Momo’s and, of course, the decadent orgy in the hotel. Jimmy didn’t want to dissuade any other party animals, but he was also eager to portray the image of private, comfortable rooms and cooked English breakfast. Jimmy had to introduce his friends to his father before he would sign any forms and, whilst Xavier may have gotten away with it, future guests would have to be on best behaviour.
It was done on a first-come, first-served basis and the first person to approach Jimmy about an exeat that week was a Nigerian guy, called Moses. He was not really a friend of Jimmy’s but someone Jimmy knew very well, and respected, from the rugby field.
Moses was a year older than Jimmy and had played on the right wing for the rugby first XV the previous year. Moses was bigger, stronger and faster and Jimmy knew that he was only in, as second choice, by virtue of the fact that Moses had opted to play football that season. He had been told to focus on soccer by the club where he had been training that summer and where he hoped he would play, professionally, in the future.
“Knight, is it true that your dad is letting people stay for exeats?” Moses approached Jimmy in the quad, after school, making sure nobody else was paying too much attention. Whilst Jimmy may have been a permissible associate for certain quad dwellers, he was a little far up the temperature scale for Moses, who was super cool, somewhere near freezing.
“I’m helping people to make use of their exeats, for a small fee, if that’s what you mean. The money is for getting the paperwork signed and returned to your houseparent on time. I need to convince my dad to act as your guardian.”
“Do you think he would do that for me?”
“He will if I ask him. But I have to introduce you first.”
“How do we do that?”
“He should be at home now.” Jimmy pushed himself off the wall. “Do you fancy a beer?”
“Yeah, sure.” Moses was looking around the quad again to check that his exit with Jimmy wasn’t being observed by anyone who mattered. “Is your dad okay with us drinking?”
“You’ll soon see.”
They chatted on the way to Jimmy’s house and it turned out that Moses, although one-year older than Jimmy, was also going to be sitting his GCSEs that year. He had fallen behind in his studies. Moses claimed to have missed a large chunk of the syllabus when he changed schools. Jimmy suspected that, in reality, Moses was a little too cool to study and not bright enough to get away with the same approach that Jimmy used: minimum effort for maximum grades.
One of the subjects causing Moses the most difficulty was maths, a subject that Jimmy had taken one year earlier.
“I can help you with your maths, Moses,” Jimmy announced.
“How can you help me?”
“Have you chosen the coursework option?”
“Yes, all our class has to do a statistics project.”
“What’s an ‘A’ worth to you?”
“I don’t know. Do you think you can make it work?”
“Nobody said anything last year. I did two other projects, in addition to my own, for people in different classes... for a small fee.” Jimmy was lying.
“Really?” Moses was looking very interested at the possibility of lightening his workload and improving his final grade.
“Give it some thought,” Jimmy said, as they reached the house. “But not a word to the old man, about coursework or exeat fees.”
§
Peter Knight was working in his study when the boys went in. He had decided that he no longer wanted to be another cog, in a large corporate machine, and was working from home as a financial consultant. The old boy network was providing a fair amount of work for him and it was keeping him occupied, keeping his mind off the divorce and keeping the dogs at bay as far as the household expenses were concerned.
But working from home was a lonely existence for someone who had been used to daily life in the city, lunching until late with clients on a regular basis. With business concluded and whatever deal signed, he could often be found sleeping off a bottle of wine too many, behind a closed office door in the afternoon, having left an instruction for his secretary not to bother him with any calls except for emergencies or the wife.
That lifestyle seemed a long time ago.
All those afternoons spent with his feet on the desk, snoozing until the peak time trains had passed so he could catch a less crowded one, later in the evening. Returning home in time to eat dinner and say goodnight to the wife and kids, before popping down the road for last orders.
Yes, those days were long gone.
No more lunchtime drinking sessions.
As a self-employed consultant, he neither had the company Amex card to play with, nor the secretary to hide behind.
But he was still quick to jump at the opportunity of a drink, when it arose, and he had just heard the front door.
“Alright there, fellas. Can I get you a beer?” he said, already making a beeline for the fridge. “John Smith’s okay?”
“Sounds great, Dad,” Jimmy grinned at Moses, whose question about Jimmy’s dad being ‘...okay with us drinking?’ had been answered. “This is Moses.”
“Rugby player?” Peter asked, extending a hand and a can of beer in Moses’ direction.
“Yes, Mr. Knight,” Moses shook his hand and took the can. “But I’ve let Jimmy have my place this season.”
“He jumped before he was pushed,” Jimmy said. “Ran off to play football before I stole the spot from him.”
“My money’s on Moses, I think, Son...” Peter looked at the difference in size between the two of them, weighing them up. “if a competition for the place comes up.”
They enjoyed a couple more beers each in the living room, where the conversation ranged from the obvious: rugby and sport in general, to the not so obvious: Moses’ mother was an opera singer and he was quite knowledgeable on the subject. Jimmy knew that his father would be sold at this little gem of information and decided to get the exeat bid in while the going was good.
“I’ve asked Moses if he would like to come on exeat this weekend, Dad.” Jimmy casually threw it into the conversation, imagining it would meet with immediate approval. “Is that okay?”
“Not this weekend, I’m afraid,” came the reply. “I’m going to be in London. And I can’t commit to being a guardian if I’m not here.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Knight,” said Moses. “I understand.”
“You’re more than welcome next weekend, though,” Peter promised him. “I will remember to stock up on beer.”
“Thanks, Mr. Knight, I will look forward to it.”
§
Jimmy’s exeat scheme was working. He had introduced a new friend to his father and secured a booking for the following weekend. And Moses was actually a really decent, down-to-earth guy, once you got him to drop his Bankside persona. But Jimmy had no extra cash for the coming weekend. Not unless he processed the forms and got the cash a week in advance. Or perhaps Moses would get back to him about the maths project? Surely that had to be worth one-hundred quid, too?
“Jimmy!” Peter called to him, before he could give the matter any further thought. “Phone!”
“Thanks, Dad, I’ll take it in the kitchen.”
“Hello, sexy!” Gemma’s voice caught him off guard.
“Oh! It’s you. Hello.” he spluttered.
Smooth, Jimmy.
Really Smooth.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Nothing much. How about you?”
“I’m on my way over to your house.”
“You’re what?!” Jimmy said, in horror. “Where are you? I’ll meet you at The Crown in ten minutes.”
“Okay. See you there, handsome.”
Jimmy got to The Crown first and ordered a pint, plus a vodka and lemonade, for Gemma.
He sat down at a table, rather than his regular spot at the bar. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, in case anyone else from the rugby club came in.
He had to do a double take when Gemma arrived. No farmer’s daughter in Barbour coat and wellies, no cheap tart in a little black dress, but a sexy, young woman in tight jeans, boots and a white sweater. She had obviously taken some care over her hair and make up, too.
Gemma was looking hot.
And she was his for the taking, if it weren’t for the small matter of imminent death that would follow soon after.
“Wow!” Jimmy was genuinely impressed. “You look stunning.”
“I scrub up quite well, when I try.” She was pleased with the compliment and the look on Jimmy’s face. “Nice to see you made an effort.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy was still wearing his school uniform, minus tie, which wasn’t a bad look, apart from the fact that Gemma knew he had not changed to come out. “I got you a vodka and lemonade.”
“Well remembered,” she said. “It’s a shame I’m driving or I could quite happily have several of these tonight. I’m in the mood.”
“I didn’t know you drove. How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen. Eighteen next month. You don’t mind older women, do you? I know you’re only sixteen, from the game on Sunday, but I thought you were older because I have seen you playing rugby on Saturdays.”
Jimmy had never noticed Gemma before at the club, but if she had been wearing the farmer’s daughter’s clothing, then it was no surprise. She sure as hell hadn’t been in the members’ bar looking the way she did right then, or Jocky would have had to fight off the whole room. He would have probably won, though, had the situation arisen.
“No, I don’t mind older women.” Jimmy couldn’t help staring at the ongoing battle, between breasts and sweater, that was taking place just across the table. He was sure the sweater was at least one size, maybe two sizes, too small and wondered if he ought to offer the breasts some assistance in their bid to escape. “I love older women.”
Two horny teenagers, who were supposedly an item, and had yet to hit the sack together, plus a few more drinks, meant that the inevitable was going to happen later that evening. And the few more drinks, which may well have been six or seven, had clouded Jimmy’s brain about the consequences of his actions.
Gemma drove to Jimmy’s house at around ten o’ clock. Her previous concerns, about drinking and driving, had been lost somewhere along the way, filed under the same category as Jimmy’s earlier worries about his post-coital health. Gemma had only grown more and more tempting to Jimmy, as the ale tally had risen, to the point that there was no return. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, Jimmy had known that his father would be working in the study and there would be no opportunity to close the deal. But Peter, having had a couple of tinnies earlier, with Jimmy and Moses, had developed a thirst of his own, and popped out for last orders.
§
“Alright, Son?” Peter shouted out as he slammed the front door. “I thought you might have been at The Crown. They said I just missed you. Whose car is that in the drive?”
Oh shit!
Wakey, wakey!
Jimmy tried to engage his brain and take stock of the situation. Gemma was naked in his bed and clothes were spread all over the room.
He prayed there were none left on the stairs or anywhere else around the house, but he was quite sure they had headed straight for his bedroom upon arrival.
“I picked up some Chinese. There’s some in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Peter shouted, and he sounded as though he was quite happy with his take away, the question about the car already forgotten. The sound of the TV being switched on confirmed Jimmy’s suspicions.
“Gemma!” Jimmy whispered to her, the memories of the previous Saturday night flooding back, when he had been unable to wake her from her slumber.
She wasn’t giving any indication of moving.
Jimmy tried to consider all of his options but the only thing that occurred to him was that, as long as Gemma wasn’t going to wake up in a hurry, he could check out her body in more detail.
He pulled back the duvet cover, exposing the breasts he had been admiring for the best part of two hours in The Crown.
They were magnificent.
He uncovered the rest of her body and, lying down, she appeared perfect. What slight traces of puppy fat she had around her belly and upper thighs completely disappeared when she was laid out, exposed, on her back.
Jimmy was becoming aroused again and wondered if Gemma would mind being woken in such a fashion. The risk of her making too much noise outweighed the temptation... well, it stood in the way of the temptation long enough for him to try waking her again quietly first.
An erect penis has no conscience.
Jimmy lay with his torso on top of her and kissed her on her mouth and breasts until she stirred. She moaned slightly and put her arms around him, which he took as the signal to mount her as he had done before they fell asleep. He had to put a hand across her mouth, to muffle the noises she was making, but he came inside her quickly and she relaxed again into a state of rest.
§
“Sorry we missed you at The Crown, Dad.” Jimmy had helped himself to some of the Chinese and went to join Peter in the living room. “What are you watching?”
“Some documentary. You can turn over if you want. I’m going to bed as soon as I’ve eaten this.”
“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to let you know that Gemma’s asleep in my room. She can’t drive home because she’s had a drink. It’s okay if she stays, isn’t it?”
“What’s she doing in your room?” Peter’s attention shifted from the Chinese to the subject of Gemma. He knew exactly what she was doing in Jimmy’s room. “Where’s your sister?”
Jimmy’s sister hardly came home at all since leaving Bankside. She left after she had completed her GCSEs, opting to study A-levels at the local college. She wasn’t a very sporty person and didn’t have the same robust personality as Jimmy to deal with the monied bitches who made the school a misery for outsiders.
She had new friends at the local college and some of them lived in a shared house, where she spent most of her time. Whether or not there was a boyfriend, Jimmy didn’t know. But she popped home to pick up clothes and do laundry whenever the mood suited her, helping herself to the contents of the fridge and cupboards as she went.
“At the usual place, I guess.” Jimmy wasn’t sure, but she would have been in touch if there was any emergency, or if she was desperate for cash. “I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”
“Okay, if your sister’s not here, I guess it’s alright if Gemma stays in your room.” Peter consented, but then added, “Just for tonight.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Jimmy repeated the words for effect but without any sincerity. “Just for tonight.”
