2 - What About You, Josh McBride? Mallowbank by Kate S. Martin

Author:Kate S. Martin [Martin, Kate S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mallowbank#2
Publisher: Creative James Media
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JOSH

“Then I got brought home by the police and I’m trying to prove to my mum that I’m not Steve and they’ve given me green paper and I still don’t get it. They can give me all the green paper in the world and I jus’ will not get it. I’m simply following in dear Steve’s footsteps. I try and I try, and I try but it’s no use …” I squint to focus on the red-haired girl standing in front of me. “There doesn’t seem any point in tryin’ anymore. I’m all tried out.” My shoulders sag. I suddenly feel sad. I don’t know where this girl appeared from, but she’s a really, really good listener. I steady myself on the rock I’m perched upon, look out to the reservoir, smile at the memories of taking Coral for walks around here when Steve was in one of his moods. Coral would insist on wearing her pink sparkly wellies with the unicorns on, and splash in every single puddle, making the walk three times longer than it should’ve been. I didn’t mind. Time out of the house was much better than time in the house. The noise of the party’s fainter, and I realise I’ve no idea how I got over to this side of the reservoir. Did I swim? Where’s my beer? Maybe she drank it. She’s still standing there. Maybe she’s an angel.

My angel.

An angel dressed in a black vest top, blue ripped dungarees, and black boots. “Can I ask-ask you something?” The ground’s moving.

She turns and smiles. “Yes.”

“It’s a really, really, really important question.”

“Go on.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Did you drink my beer?”

She smiles. “No. I did not drink your beer.”

“Okay. Can I ask you something else?”

“Please do. It looks like I’m a fountain of knowledge tonight.”

“Are you an angel?”

She laughs. I like that sound. I want to make her laugh again. “Tonight, my friend. I might be yours.” She turns and stares back over the valley. “This view’s really pretty. I live in Farnham. I’ve never been up here.”

I continue to pat the ground, searching for my beer. Where the hell is it? “So, angel. You’re friends with Elliot?” She nods. “How did you meet? I don’t recognise you. I think I would recognise you. You are very recogni-recogno-recognisable.”

She keeps looking out over the hills. “The number of beers you’ve consumed tonight, I don’t think you would recognise your own mum. I know Elliot from the young carer’s meetings. I’m a young carer too.”

“That’s crap.” I want to say something more profound, but I’ve nothing in my head. It’s empty. “I’m not very good at the words. Elliot’s good with the words. He would know what to say. He would use some big fancy words but not me. I’m the stupid brother with no words.”

She faces me and puts her hands in her pockets. “Personally, I think you’re spot on with the words. It is crap. My mum’s dying from cancer and before I came out tonight, I had to administer morphine and check her catheter so the exact word for this would be … crap.

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