Word Gets Around

“Darling”, he said, looking in the mirror and pulling a navy sweater over his head, “are you ready, it started at 12pm you know. It’s 3pm now”.

He stroked the sweater’s small, red embroidered horse absent-mindedly and watched as his girlfriend descended down the stairs in skin-tight jeans and a spotless white sweater, also adorned with a matching blue embroidered horse, the mare to his stallion.

“Sweetie, I’ve invited Tilly to join us. She just really needs a break, you know? That bastard’s finished with her again.”

She turned and walked through to the kitchen, hips swaying, shiny blonde bob swinging. She looked pristine but James didn't notice. He was too busy running a hand through his brown curls and inspecting his stubble. It was a good length. He adjusted his pinkie ring.

“Well that's fine by me. Now, before you start, Andy’s meeting us there as well.”

Ros raised an eyebrow and glanced back at James in the hall but didn’t say anything.

“Listen. I know he’s boring, you know he’s boring, we all know he’s boring. And I tried my best but I couldn’t get rid of him. Useless little prick.”

Ros sighed. Andy. The dreaded Andy. He was shy, quiet - ‘mild-mannered’ was what people often called him. He was socially bloody retarded if you asked her. He’d never even tried to better himself. He was still living at home with James’ mother!

Look at James - he’d moved on, got the scholarship, done the degree, got the job, bought the house, the cars, the gadgets - found her, for goodness sake! It wasn’t difficult, was it? But Andy seemed happy just dreaming along, never saying boo to a goose, never meeting anyone, never going anywhere. It made her sick, it really did.

She sighed again then walked back to the hall and picked up her handbag, patting James bottom as she did so.

“Come on bum-bum. Let's go for Christ’s sake.”

The common was already swarming with people. There were tents everywhere and a huge sign which read ‘Magners in the Marquee’. This was a cider festival catering for the Claphamites, so while there were some traditional cloudy ciders and rocket fuel scrumpies from the West Country, the organisers knew their market and had mainly stuck to the sickly-sweet big-name brands. This applied to the line-up as well, which was being headlined by Stereophonics.

“Let's call the guys darling...they're probably already here.” They got out their respective iPhones and stood a few metres apart, facing opposite directions, unwittingly pulling the sunglasses from their heads and sliding them onto their faces at exactly the same time and completely in sync.

“There she is!” Ros squeaked and ran to meet Tilly, who appeared from behind two giant blue bins, tottering slightly in heels an carrying a plastic glass half-full of cider.

“Darling! You look amazing – have you been here belong?” Ros swooped in and delivered a glancing kiss on either cheek, her silver bracelets sliding down her wrist as she embraced Tilly.

“No darling, not long, no. Just got myself a drink. I bloody need one after dealing with that bastard all over again.”

Her bottom lip began to quiver and her eyes widened, then she shook her head decisively.

“That’s it Ros. I mean it this time. I don’t know why I ever fell for him in the first place. He drives a Renault for fuck’s sake. And he never got that bloody bonus…”

She trailed off and Ros rubbed her arm sympathetically, then pushed her sunglasses back up onto her perfect bob again.

“Come on sweetie, James is over here. I’m afraid his brother Andy is joining us as well – I can’t remember if you’ve met him, but he’s… well….” She trailed off and they moved over towards James, who was still on the phone.

“No, no, over by the ice-cream van. There are some blue bins opposite us. For God’s sake man, have you gone blind? Wait. Wait, I can see you, I’ll come and get you.” He hung up and slipped the iPhone into his pocket.

Andy stumbled out from behind a Gourmet Burger van. He had a plastic pint glass of cloudy scrumpy in each hand and was somehow miraculously managing to keep both upright and not spill a drop. James walked over and put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him in the direction of the girls.

“Jesus, how many have you had? Right, you know Ros, obviously, and this is her friend Tilly. Tilly – Andy, Andy – Tilly.”

Andy looked down woefully at his hands, over at Tilly’s hands and back again.

“S-s-s-orry…” he stumbled and proceeded to lift one glass, drain it and then extend his hand. Tilly took it, just barely managing to hide her distaste. James and Ros stared at each other. They’d never seen Andy drunk before. In fact, he usually stuck to one pint of shandy and then made his excuses and went home. He blinked a few times, wide-eyed and slowly swayed back and forth, back and forth. Ros tutted and rolled her eyes.

“You ready for another one Tills? Why don’t we see you by the stage? Stick on the left-hand side and we’ll come and find you. Money please.”

She clicked her fingers at James then made a quick beckoning gesture, finger tips and manicured nails hitting her palm. James handed over a twenty-pound note without a word, looking past Ros and Tilly at a tall red-head who had just bought a 99 ice-cream and was licking it in a deliberately seductive manner whilst eyeing James. The girls moved off and James leaned in towards Andy, steadying him by the arm.

“Look at that. Just look at it” He nodded at the red head. “Given half the chance, I’d shunt that like a steam train. She wouldn’t know what hit her.” He smiled over at her, while Andy looked on and sipped at his second pint.

“Of course you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about, would you Andy-Baby? When did you last get laid?”

Andy looked uncomfortable and then muttered “Shut up, you bastard” weakly, as James stood laughing at him. Andy never took the bait, never rose to the occasion. He was in fact the older brother, but James had successfully bullied him since they were children and Andy never said a word.

“Come on twat-face, let’s get down to this stage. I think the ‘Phonics are about to start – I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Saw them in ’96 you know, before anyone knew who they were.”

“I bloody well hate them” Andy said quietly while he stood swaying rather alarmingly, but James was oblivious, marching down to the stage, one hand in his chino shorts, looking left and right.

Andy finished the last of what was now his third pint of Old Rosie and for the first time, felt his heart start to bang madly, unpredictably. As they made their way to the huge domed stage, picking their way past empty plastic cups, screaming children, food containers and billowing carrier bags, Andy snuck a sideways look at James. He knew that when it really came down to it, James was a tosser. But then maybe he was the tosser for putting up with it for all these years?

He felt a big cider-y lurch of anger bubble up inside him. If he’d heard that ridiculous catch-phrase of his ‘I’d shunt her like a steam train’ once, he’d heard it a thousand times.

They drew level with the girls and James slipped his arm around Ros and started whispering something into her ear. Tilly was staring at Kelly Jones, her face a mask of buck-toothed rapture. James leaned over.

“Hey Tills, you know I saw these guys in ’96, right? Yeah. Amazing. Fantastic gig. Tiny venue. I chatted to the guys afterwards, top blokes. I even bought Kelly Jones a pint. I mean, hello?”

Kelly Jones. James. Kelly Jones. James. Andy concentrated on trying to keep the hot, gushing, angry adrenaline which was bursting up from his heart in check. He squeezed his hands into fists and released them again and looked up at the stage. In the background, James was still rumbling on.

“Oh yeah. Yeah I mean it was great. Andy? Andy, where are you going?”

Andy had got to his feet and was heading towards the stage, head down, hands bunched. He walked straight up to the green mesh tarpaulin at the side of the stage and ripped a huge section of it down. A couple of people started to look. He ducked through and momentarily glanced to the right at the crowd, before hauling himself over the barrier and clambering up onto the stage. Three security men began running over but Andy was already making his way to the centre. He had one focus and one focus only.

“The handbags and the gladrags that your poor old Grandad…” Kelly Jones suddenly caught sight of him and began to falter.

“Hold on. Whose this then?” he said into the mic.

Andy had reached the centre of the stage and the security men were about 3 steps behind. There was no time to waste. He drew his arm back and curled his fingers into a fist.

“I fucking hate you Kelly James-s-s-s and I fucking hate thish song” he yelled, then punched Kelly Jones with all his might. Jones went down like a ton of bricks, spitting a spray of blood and one tooth onto the floor. Andy quickly grabbed the mic as the security men began reaching for him.

“And stop fucking saying you 'sshhunted her like a shtteam train’ James. You’re a FUCKING TOSSER!”

Suddenly the security guards were all over him. One of them pulled the microphone out of Andy’s hand, while the other two wrestled him to the ground. Two others ran on from the side of the stage and began to help Kelly Jones to his feet. The rest of the band didn’t know whether to play on or stop.

At the side of the stage, James stood looking dumb-struck. Ros, eyebrows piqued with confusion, asked "Darling, what's he talking about? You always tell me that you want to shunt ME like a steam train. Why's he saying that to Kelly Jones?" Next to them, Tilly had an odd look on her face, as if she was trying to remember something.

“Shunt you like a steam train…” She murmured. “Shunt you like a steam train…Shunt you like a steam train…”

Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my God! You said that to me once! At the Law ball! We were all plastered and I’ve never been able to remember which creep it was who said it. And it was you!”

She reached out and slapped his arm viciously. Ros, as if she’d just woken up, turned and looked at James, then moved towards him.

“Darling, you don’t believe this stupid bitch do you? Or Andy? Come on, you hate Andy!”

Ros said nothing but reached out for James’ arm and simultaneously drew her knee up and smashed it into his groin not once, but twice. Then, fumbling to remove the sweater with the blue embroidered horse from her body, she thrust it in his direction declaring "You are not my bum bum any more" and calmly walked away, closely followed by Tilly.

At the side of the stage, Andy was doubled over, slowly spewing thick, frothing cider onto the floor, surrounded by security guards, who looked shocked that so much could come out of one small man. Andy doubled over again and heaved. There was a half-smile on his face.