Is Anybody There?: Seeing is believing. Jean Ure
was where Dreamboy Danny operated. I hasten to add that I didn’t call him Dreamboy. I have better taste than that! Dreamboy was Chloe’s nickname for him.
“He’s over there,” she whispered. “Let’s move!”
She claimed she was too near the smoking area (“I get this really bad asthma”) so we all trooped over to the windows and there was Danny, with his order pad – and there was Mel, with her eyes going into overdrive, and I might just as well not have been there. If it is a disease that she’s got, I wouldn’t mind having a bit of it myself. Not enough to make me ill, or anything; but it would be nice to be able to mesmerise boys. As it was, I don’t think Danny even noticed me; or if he did, he didn’t show any signs of actual recognition. I guess maybe I look different when I’m not in school uniform. All the same … big sigh! He’d recognise Mel if she turned up in a bin bag.
Round about half past eight, people’s parents started arriving and I dutifully rang Albert on my mobile, only I couldn’t get through as the number was engaged, and while I was waiting for it to become unengaged I started thinking things to myself. It was totally stupid spending all that money on a cab when I could just as easily walk a few hundred yards up the road and catch a bus. I’d still be home by nine – well, nineish – and I wouldn’t need to tell Mum how I’d got there. Which meant I could put the money I’d saved towards the glitter boots! I wanted those boots more than ever after seeing Mel in a pair. I think I felt that if I had the boots I might also have the hypnosis thing and be able to get boys to take notice of me. Maybe. I know it was bad, when I’d given Mum my word, but I was, like, desperate. I’d just spent the whole evening being totally overlooked by the boy I loved! Well, OK, perhaps love is a bit strong, but I truly did fancy him like crazy. Believe me, if you have never experienced it, I am here to tell you that fancying a boy who has eyes Only for Another can make you behave in ways you normally wouldn’t dream of. At any rate, that is my excuse because it is the only one I can think of.
I snatched up my jacket and rushed out into the night. I wasn’t bothered about being one of the first to leave; I just wanted to add Mum’s cab money to my boot fund! Unfortunately, owing to the stupid one-way system, you can’t actually catch a bus to Tanfield directly outside the Pizza Palace but have to go trailing round the side roads, which at that time of night are more or less deserted.
I am not at all a nervous kind of person. I really don’t mind being out on my own in the dark – not that I am ever allowed to be – but I must admit, it was a bit scary, waiting for the bus at an empty bus stop in this great concrete canyon, nothing but slab-sided office blocks rising up on either side, and gaping dark holes leading into the bowels of underground car parks. Plus this really spooky orange lighting, and not a single human being to be seen.
I was just beginning to think that maybe I had better go back to the restaurant and ring Albert after all, when a little blue Ka pulled up and the driver wound down the window and called out to me.
“Joanne? It is Joanne, isn’t it?”
I’d been all prepared to turn and run. You’d better believe it! But when he called my name, I hesitated.
“Joanne? It’s Paul – Dee’s brother. Can I give you a lift?”
Well! I relaxed when he said he was Dee’s brother. I’d only met him once, a few weeks back, when mostly all we’d said was “Hi”; but obviously, being Dee’s brother, he had to be all right. So I said that I would love a lift, and I hopped into the car as quick as could be, feeling mightily pleased with myself. I’d be home well before nine, and could keep all of the cab money!
Cosily, as we drove, I prattled on about my boot fund, and our end-of-term celebration, and how Dee had done all the organising and how rotten it was that she hadn’t been able to come. I asked Paul how she was, and he said that she was much better and was out of hospital, and then for a while we talked about Dee and her asthma, and how it stopped her doing some of the things she would really have liked to do, such as horse riding (because of being allergic to horses) and playing hockey (to which I went “Yuck!” as I am forced to play hockey and would far rather not), but I have to say it was quite hard work as I was the one that had to do most of the talking. Fortunately I am not at all shy, but on the other hand I am not a natural chatterer like Chloe, and after a bit I began to run out of things to talk about.
Paul didn’t seem bothered, he just smiled and nodded. He did a lot of smiling, but practically no talking at all. I think it is so weird, when people don’t communicate. Even if I asked him a question, he mostly only grunted. Or smiled. Not very helpful. You do expect some kind of feedback when you’re making all that effort. If it hadn’t been for me we would have sat there in total silence. But it shouldn’t have been up to me! He was the adult. I couldn’t remember how old Dee had said he was, or even if she had said, but I knew he was her half brother and was loads older than we were. He must have been at least in his twenties. Mid-twenties, at that. I was only just a teenager, for goodness’ sake! Why should I have to carry the burden? It wasn’t fair, leaving it all to me.
I looked out of the window in a kind of desperation, wondering where we were, and if we were nearly home, and discovered, to my horror, that we were nowhere near home. Spiders’ legs of fright went whispering down my spine. We were on totally the wrong road! Instead of taking the left fork out of town, through Crossley and Benbridge, he’d gone and swung off to the right, down Gravelpit Hill. I’d been too preoccupied racking my brain for things to say to notice.
“Why—” my voice came out in a strangulated squawk. I had to swallow, and start again. “Why are we driving down G-Gravelpit Hill?”
He turned, to look at me. “Didn’t Dee say you lived in Tanfield?”
“Y-yes.” I swallowed again. “But th-this isn’t the way to get there!”
“It does get there,” he said. “I promise you! I know where I’m going.” He had this very quiet, husky voice, without much expression. It was more frightening than if he’d shouted. “I realise it adds a bit to the journey, but—”
It didn’t just add a bit, it took us miles out of our way. It took us through open countryside. Fields, and woods, and isolation. And, in the end, it took us to the gravel pits …
“I always come by this route,” he said. “I prefer it to the other.”
“But it’s such a w-waste of p-petrol!” I said.
“Well – yes.” He smiled. “I suppose it is; I never thought of it like that. But it’s so much nicer than the main road. Don’t you think?”
I couldn’t answer him; my mouth had gone dry. I suddenly sensed that I was in terrible danger. I had made the most stupid mistake … I should never have got into the car! And oh, it is true, it is absolutely true, what they say, that at moments like that your blood just seems to turn to water, the bottom of your stomach feels like it has dropped out, and you get cold and shaky and a kind of dread comes over you. The one thing I knew, I had to keep calm. I mustn’t panic! If he sussed that I was frightened, it would give him power over me. So long as I just kept my head, I might be able to find a way out.
Doing my best to keep my voice from quavering, I told him that if I didn’t get back by nine, Mum would start to worry.
“She’ll