Page 60 of The Cut
The sound of voices around him, muffled and distant, gurgle into focus. A hard, painful pressure pounds on his chest, and something warm is clamped over his mouth, suffocating him. He’s gagging, about to vomit. The ground shifts and he’s tilted sideways. Daylight seeps in through his eyelids and he’s sick, water exploding from his mouth and ears, out on to the warm grass.
‘Oh, thank God. Mark? Mark? You’re OK. You’re OK.’ The drifting voices swim in and out of his waterlogged ears, as he lies on the ground coughing. He opens his eyes and, gently falling into his eye line, Ben’s face hovers over him.
‘Quite a good kisser,’ Ben laughs, looking down at the boy he just saved, white as a sheet and panting with exhaustion. ‘You OK?’
Mark buries his face into the grass and vomits water again. ‘I’ll be fine, leave me alone.’ He can barely speak.
‘All right. Keep your knickers on.’ Ben tuts and gets up off the grass.
‘Yeah, keep your He-Man poofter pants on!’ Chris chips in.
Mark flushes with rage. Everyone is gathered round in a circle, staring at him. Smirking. Mocking smiles, whispering behind their hands. For once in his life, it becomes too much to bear.
‘Just fuck off, Ben Knot! Fuck off, all of you!’ Mark staggers to his feet trembling with white-hot anger, his fists clenched, spit forming on his lips.
‘Come on then, have a go.’
Mark squares up to the tall blond real-life He-Man who is towering over him. Nobody breathes. But then, almost out of230nowhere, Mark’s arm swings wide, cracking Ben across the side of the face. Ben reels back in shock, holding his hand to his cheek as Mark waits for the inevitable retaliation. Trembling from head to toe, adrenaline pumping and tears rolling down his cheeks.
‘I just saved you from drowning, you little prick!’ The look on Ben’s face shifts from shock to menace. He steps forward. ‘Was that your first kiss with a man? Well, it definitely won’t be the last, will it?’ He is close up in his face, but then turns to the crowd. ‘We know all about you. He really is a bender!’
Mark swallows hard, his vision blurs and his head spins. His whole world is collapsing around him. How did Ben know? He looks at Annie Maddock. It must be her. She’s betrayed him and now they all know. He pushes his way through a circle of shocked faces. Annie follows behind, catching his arm.
‘Mark, are you OK? Come here.’ She’s holding out a blanket to cover him.
‘Leave me alone!’ The fury in him rises to his throat. ‘Traitor.’
He couldn’t forgive and would never forget.
She was dead to him.
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41
JUNE 2024
The last few girls walked through the school gates as Ben sat waiting for his daughter to emerge from football practice. When she didn’t appear, he opened his phone and tapped on the Meta app, scrolling to Lily’s feed. She always posted after the game.
Lily Knot has blocked you.
‘Shit.’ Ben hated spying on his kids, but he was losing control. A tap on the window made him jump. The face of Mr Branchflower, the sports teacher, loomed into the glass. He dropped the window.
‘Hello, Ben. How’s tricks? Everything OK?’ Branchflower must have been in his sixties by now. When Ben was his star pupil thirty years ago, he was like some heroic pin-up, tanned and strapping. Now his hair was grey, and his pecs had descended into ‘moobs’.
‘Just picking Lily up. She’s probably messing around in the changing room.’ Ben leant back wearily against the headrest.
‘Lily didn’t turn up tonight.’ Branchflower pulled his car keys from his sports bag.
‘What? That’s not like her.’ Ben glanced at his phone for missed calls.
‘This so-called film they’re both involved in …’ Branchflower paused, chewing his lip. ‘I just hope it’s worth keeping them out of school for. If you want my advice, they both need to be getting their heads down.’
Ben frowned at him. ‘What are you talking about?’232
‘I haven’t seen Nate on the football field for a few weeks now, but maybe it’s just me he’s allergic to.’ He pulled his bag over his shoulder and headed towards his car. ‘Just give them a heads-up to prioritise their studies, Ben.’
Ben watched as Branchflower got into his car. It was starting to get dark as Ben pulled away from the sports centre and began to head home. Where the hell were they? He drove down Forest Hill and turned right at the small parade of shops. A group of kids were squatting on the wall outside Codswallop, sharing chips from a polystyrene box. Ben crawled slowly along the kerb, leaning over to the passenger side to scrutinise every face, hunting for his children. One of the girls in a pleated mini skirt flipped a finger at him, whispered to her friends and took a photo on her phone.
