Page 58 of Revive
On Wednesday, Alle crossed to the mainland with Rock Giant and Ronnie. Half-term week had arrived, and the funfair had temporarily opened. It felt good to get away from the claustrophobia of the island that she hadn’t realised existed until she stepped ashore into the bustle of the real world. A world swarming with people, and chatter, and scent after scent layered one atop the other. Ketchup and vinegar, oil, and machinery, the thread of perfume, candy floss and doughnuts, grass and sand, and noxious traffic fumes. It was like stepping into a whirlpool. One she surprisingly found she’d missed.
“Has Spook left the island since you all holed up there?”
They’d been here about four hours and done all the wandering and rides they could handle for the present, so had stopped for food and a sit down on a stretch overlooking the beach.
Rock Giant paused, vegan hot dog dripping with mustard halfway to his mouth. “Only to see his counsellor.”
Right. She was pretty sure that was a door-to-door service. He dutifully disappeared for a couple of hours twice a week with one of the guys. They seemed to have a rota figured out. When he returned, he never mentioned going on any side quests, which made his suggestion that they head to Sweden together once the album was done all the more momentous.
“Have you ditched him deliberately this evening, or couldn’t you persuade him to join us?” Rock Giant asked between mouthfuls.
“Bit of both, I guess.” Spook definitely hadn’t wanted to come along, and he’d pretty much spelled out to her that she ought to go because he’d appreciate some alone time. Initially, she’d wondered if that was code for I’m going to hang with Xane, but it seemed not. Xane and Luthor had taken off together to parts unknown somewhere that morning and hadn’t returned by the time Alle and the guys had left for the funfair. “Any idea what I should get him for his birthday?”
“Yourself naked and handcuffed to the bed, or is that a routine weeknight?”
“I meant a physical gift, not a sex present.”
“Yeah, but he’d probably prefer a sex present. I’m telling you, I would. Not that getting cool stuff isn’t fun, but it’s just stuff. Disposable. And he has enough dosh to pretty much buy whatever he fancies. I’m telling you, experiences are the direction to go.”
Yeah, she was working on that, but the ball was in Spook’s court.
“Oh, my God, Alle! What has he won?”
Alle turned to find Ronnie bounding towards them carrying an enormous fabric ring doughnut tucked beneath his arm. He’d left them in search of candy floss.
“It’s a bean bag,” he announced. “Cool, right? Won it on the Hook a Duck. Hold it for me? I want some mussels.”
Alle dutifully took possession of the enormous pink ring, whereupon Ronnie beelined towards the nearest food van.
“He eats mussels?”
Paul polished off the last of his food and screwed up the wrapper. “Bet you a tenner he comes back with something else.”
In fact, he returned with a carton of vinegary mussels and a pineapple fritter, which he proceeded to eat together.
“I’m really pleased I’m not kissing you tonight,” Alle observed. Once he was done eating, she passed him his prize doughnut back. Ronnie promptly sat on it, then changed his mind and placed it on his head to wear as a hat.
“Well, you’re very charming, aren’t you?” He pulled a bag of gummy cherries out of his back pocket. “No cherries for you. Meanie. My new hat is very fetching, and mussels are a must at the seaside.”
“Yeah, but not combined with battered pineapple and gummy sweets.”
“She makes a good point, mate.” Paul remarked. “You smell like a fish had a love child with a can of Lilt, and I’m guessing you don’t taste much better. Not that anyone’s getting close enough to find out while you have that giant-sized teddy bear’s arsehole on your head.”
Ronnie just laughed. “Bet I could pull someone if I wanted.” He stuck his tongue into his cheek and gave Rock Giant a wry look, which made Alle think they had some sort of ghastly shagging competition going on.
“Anyway,” Ronnie said. “I didn’t come out looking for a shag tonight. I came for the Waltzer, the Helter Skelter, and the Pirate Shit.” All of which they’d done six times over.
“Ship?” Paul corrected him.
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you didn’t. You said shit.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“You were shit. You looked like you were going to hurl.”
