Mix Tape by Jane Sanderson

Author:Jane Sanderson [Sanderson, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473569980
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2020-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

19

SHEFFIELD,

28 JULY 1979

When she knocked on the door of Daniel’s house, and his mother answered, there was a short, startled hiatus in which each of them realised Alison shouldn’t be there on the doorstep, so when Marion Lawrence said, ‘Oh! I thought you were in Manchester, with Daniel,’ Alison immediately replied, ‘No, oh God, yes! I should be,’ and started to cry wildly.

You see, this was the problem, thought Marion, even as she clucked with concern and ushered her into the house: Alison Connor was as jumpy as a fawn; look at her sideways and she’d cry, or bolt. Oh, lovely-looking, granted, and good for Daniel, to a point, because he’d been a lot less moody round the house since they started going out, but she was a worry, oh yes, she was that; she was a youngster troubled with too many secrets.

‘Did you just forget?’ she asked, but Alison couldn’t answer because she was crying too hard, crying beyond all proportion to the event in Mrs Lawrence’s opinion. She hugged her and made all the right noises, while thanking God for Claire and her uncomplicated, sunny nature. ‘Now then,’ she said. ‘Now then. There’s no need for this, it was only a silly concert.’

Alison shook her head and pushed herself away from Mrs Lawrence’s embrace. She didn’t have the words or the will to explain herself, to explain this excessive outpouring of grief, which was all for Peter and had nothing at all to do with the missed gig.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Mrs Lawrence said. She went through to the kitchen, grateful to be busy, and Alison stood for a while, marooned in the sparkling living room, with its plumped-up cushions and smell of Pledge. She longed to crawl unnoticed up to Daniel’s room and change into one of his T-shirts, curl up in his bed, make a nest of his sheets; there’d be comfort in that. She could wait for him there, wait until it grew dark and late, and Daniel came home, and he’d get into bed with her so she could explain everything to him. But then, she thought, could she? After all, he was entirely protected from the shameful reality of her life; she’d been so scrupulous in her efforts to keep her world separate from his, to hide the chaos. How could she now lay all that on him: all the messy, miserable, private details of her life; all the turbulence of Catherine, Martin, Peter – oh God, Peter. She closed her eyes, but when she did that she could see him, terrified, staring at her from the edge of death, so she opened them again, and there was Mr Lawrence, Daniel’s dad, looking round the door at her, his gentle face creased with anxious sympathy.

Marion had fetched him, nipping out to the pigeon loft to tell him Alison was here, she was upset, and he was better with her than she was, he had more patience. Mr Lawrence had come gladly, and

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