Текст книги "After Forever Ends "

Автор книги: Melodie Ramone

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“Motorhead? Are you bloody joking? I love Motorhead!” I exclaimed. They all seemed shocked. Even Oliver gave me a great expression of surprise, “What?” I demanded, looking between them as they stared, “Just because I dress in skirts and wear lipstick doesn’t mean I don’t own a pair of Docter Martins or don’t love Lemmy! Who don’t love Lemmy? Lemmy is God!”

“Lemmy is God?” Oliver asked with an approving smirk.

“Damn right Lemmy’s God!” I swore, “He’s my boyfriend, too!”

“Lemmy is your boyfriend?” His eyes widened and his brows went up. Oh, he was adorable when he did that.

“Well, yes,” I began to laugh, “He is my future ex-husband, you know!”

This Alexander seemed to like. He laughed out loud and tossed an arm over his brother's shoulder with his hand dangling in front of his chest, “So you’re not one hundred percent committed to Lemmy then?”

“Well…you know...he’s very busy with Motorhead…”

“Not to mention being God,” Oliver interjected, “Blimey!”

And, thus, my first rock concert was front and centre at Motorhead, crushed against the stage right before the mosh pit, pinched in front of Oliver, who happily beat off the moshers. I very much enjoyed watching him block and shove people away from doing me harm. It made me feel quite special, not to mention that he seemed to be having the time of his life doing it. Often the onslaught caused us to be pressed close together. Merlyn and Alexander, however, abandoned us both and were in the thick of it, caught in the mosh with the other hell raisers.

Sometimes I think my ears still ring because of that show, it was so bloody loud. Years later, Oliver told me he considered it our first date.

Lance Crosby had opted to go and see his mother for the weekend rather than come with us to Motorhead. Lance was more difficult to sort out than the rest. He was a diminutive young man, almost freakishly small, with dusty blonde hair and fresh green eyes that were nearly too big for his face. Not a great looking chap at all, though, plus he was only five feet tall and shuffled when he walked, which was a bit annoying. Still, he was kind and quiet and kept to himself for the most part. I think he was really shy, especially with girls, even the ones like me who wanted nothing other than just to be his friend. Lance never talked about himself in conversation. Everything I knew about him was what the other boys had told me, like he was rich as hell, but never acted it, and lived on a medieval estate in Caernarfon with his mother. He had a good heart and the right idea about family and country. He wanted to join the military after he graduated, then go to university and find a wife and raise a family. Very simple man, Lance Crosby was. If he hadn’t been so loveable, I’d have thought him boring, except that he was usually found glued to the side of Alex Dickinson, who was always getting involved in one form of mayhem or another.

“Oh, Lancelot!” Alexander would call in the tone of a mother hailing a child. That particular day he was motivating down the corridor at a casual speed, hands jammed into his jacket pockets.

“Yes, Alexander?” Lance would counter as if replying to his mother.

“You’ll never guess what I have!” Alex would sing this part like a show tune.

“What do you have?” Lance would sing back.

“Balloons, Mate! Loads of balloons!” He pulled handfuls out of his pockets, “We’ve just enough time to fill them before the first years leave the North Tower!”

Lance’s horns, tiny as they may have been, would poke out from beneath his mop of hair and off they’d go to declare war on unsuspecting eleven year olds making their way from class.

I was a little surprised at how quickly the lot of them took me under their wings. In truth, it was immediate, which was a great comfort since I was not only in a new school, but as well in a country I had only lived in for a few weeks. It was Oliver and Merlyn who showed me about the school that first day and made sure that I knew where all of my classes would be. They gave me the guidance and warnings I needed on which professors to watch out for and which to kiss up to, as well as the heads up on the more troublesome students. I shared my lunch hour with them, Alex and Lance, and then spent the remainder of the day on the quad in their company as well. Having been called to a meeting for the girls in my dormitory to discuss the rules, I got separated from them just before dinner and when the meal bell rang I found myself standing in the cafeteria alone in a busy crowd of students. There seemed to be no vacant tables where I could sit by myself.

I hated that. If I had to be somewhere where I felt so very alone then I wanted to be alone. There was somehow always more comfort in being apart from everyone than being in the middle of it all and not having a place. I was contemplating taking my tray and having my dinner in the girl’s toilet when a familiar voice came from behind me.

“Hi, Silvia!” I turned to see Oliver grinning at me. He was trailed by Alexander, who was looking to his right and walked directly into Oliver’s back, “I saved you a seat at our table,” He said as he stumbled forward.

I could actually feel people watching us, as if half the heads in the hall turned, but I was too overwhelmed with the fact that these boys had sought me out to look around and make sure.

Alexander winked at me and then hung his tongue out at a girl to our left and pretended to pick his nose. “Always sit with us,” He turned back to me and pointed to the far wall, “We’re over by there. Come on then!”

Oh, the relief! Oh, the joy! Being paid so much attention to by two handsome boys is a great way to start any first day at school. There was something happening even then between Oliver and me, no matter if we were being coy about it.

I had dinner with them. Don’t ask me why I remember, but it was turkey with gravy and mash and Alex had three plates. Oliver barely touched his. All through dinner he talked to me. Random things, really, like asking me about where I'd boarded before and if I liked rugby. Alexander didn't say much. He just ate and sort of started at me and then Ollie would turn and give him a hard look and he'd laugh a bit and look away. I noticed off the top that those two could speak to each other without words, although at the time I had no idea of the depth of some of those conversations.

At the end of the meal, a professor came to the table and asked the twins if they would lead a group of first years to their common room and thus they disappeared from the hall while I followed Merlyn and Lance to our own. “This way, this way,” Lance mumbled as he shuffled along, “Careful on the stairs, Love, people fall on them all the time.”

“Lance is the resident mother hen,” Merlyn told me almost apologetically, “People fall all over this place, not just on the stairs.”

I sat with those boys in the common room discussing the many hair colours of Duran Duran until we were joined by Ollie and Alex. We all sat together joking until the first bell rang for curfew.

“Do you know your way to your hall of residence?” Merlyn asked, rising to his feet.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well, we’ll walk you anyway,” Oliver said firmly. He stood above me, peering down with a playful expression. “We can't have you getting lost, can we?”

“You do that, Ollie,” Alex stood up and looked about the room, “I gotta go talk to Sarah a minute before she goes to bed or she’ll get all upset and I’ll never hear the end of it, mind. See you in the morning, Silvia. Welcome to Bennington!”

“Thank you, Alexander! Good night!”

He nodded and crossed the room to his girlfriend.

Merlyn, Lance and Oliver walked me to the entrance of my dormitory, which was the building on the opposite side of the great hall from theirs. “Sit with us in the morning at breakfast,” Oliver told me with a grin as he left, “We always sit at the same table. I’ll make sure you have a spot.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely, feeling very special.

“No worries! Cheers, Just Silvia!”

“Cheers!”

He grinned, gave a short wave, and the three of them turned away.

I let loose a long sigh, and then held my breath tight in my chest. He was sincerely beautiful, very sweet, and my heart was already stuck on him.

I wandered around the hall of residence for some time trying to make sense of the room numbers. When I couldn’t find mine, I decided I must be on the wrong floor and headed up one, only to discover that I was completely in the wrong place. Frustrated, I returned downstairs and wandered the labyrinth of corridors until I realised that someone had switched all the numbers on the doors. There were a several girls running up and down the halls, but none seemed to be in any rush to help me. I finally located the prefect’s office, which was nothing more than a wooden desk shoved into a large, empty cupboard. The girl inside seemed to know without me telling her what had happened and set about righting all the number plates on the doors instead of helping me find my room.

She was very rude and I was quite upset by the time she was through. I was even more so when I walked into the wrong room and two girls stared at me as if I were stupid. At least they were nice, however, and told me that there must have been a misprint on my card because they’d been there for three years and knew they were both in the right place. “You’re going to have to go to the prefect. She has the master list and she’ll set you right.”

I thanked them and walked reluctantly back down the hall to ask. “Sorry,” I said as I tapped on the door of her makeshift office, “My room is wrong.”

She gave me a hard look as if I were bothering her, even though all she was doing was eating a pastry. “What’s the room?”

“Two-fifteen.”

“Can’t be. That’s the third year floor.”

I sighed, “I know that now.”

She mumbled something about new students being as retarded as first years and picked up her ledger, “What’s your name?”

“Silvia Cotton.”

“You’re in room three seventeen,” She glanced up at me, “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from the Dickinson twins.”

Where the bloody hell did that come from? I wondered, but I asked, “Oh? What do you mean?”

The girl raised her eyebrows at me, then looked down at a list and turned several papers on a clipboard, tapping her pen on each one, “You‘ll find out.”

I waited a moment to see if she wanted to elaborate, but she never glanced up again. I left her sitting at her fold away desk in the corner thinking to myself about how completely unpleasant she’d been. What she said made me a bit nervous, though. I’d only been there a day and although they’d seemed so kind, maybe those boys were trouble. Oh, I hated the idea of having made friends already and of then having to ditch them so quickly. I finally made my way back down the corridor and up the stairs to my new room. I opened the door to find a girl standing in front of the window with her back to me.

“Hello,” I said not too loudly.

She turned, spun, really, on her heels and immediately stuck her hands behind her back as if I’d caught her up to something. The expression on her face was odd, as if she’d swallowed too hard and needed to cough. She looked me up and down for a moment before she spoke, “Hello. I’m Sandra.”

“I’m Silvia,” I smiled. Sandra was incredibly tall and a little too thin, but she looked harmless enough in her little wire rimmed glasses. “Which bed have you taken?”

“I haven’t, but I’d like this one,” She pointed to the one nearest her, “I like to sleep by the window. I mean, if that‘s all right.”

“That’s fine. Which cupboard have you taken?”

“I took the one by the door unless you want it. It doesn‘t matter to me.”

“First come, first serve,” I dropped my leather satchel on my new bed, thinking that she seemed very thoughtful, “I’m just glad I found the room! I had a terrible time!”

“They changed the plates again?” She asked without a smile.

“Yes, they did!”

“Bitches,” Sandy mumbled firmly, “All of them.”

I laughed softly, “I just had one of them tell me to watch myself around the Dickinson twins. Do you know what she meant?”

Her narrow eyes flashed wide for just an instant, “Who was it who said it?”

“I don’t know. The prefect downstairs.”

“Did she have dark hair?” Sandy asked. I nodded. “Long?”

“Medium.”

“Then it wasn’t Jayne Fitzpatrick. Jayne Fitzpatrick and Jennifer Eisenberg are the prefects for this floor this semester. They, I, and Nicole Bell, but Nicole is a blonde. Jayne probably wouldn’t have said it anyway. Did the girl threaten you at all? “

“Not so much. I think maybe she was trying. She was very unpleasant.“

“It was Jennifer Eisenberg,” Sandy said matter of fact, “Don’t mind the Dickinson twins. Watch out for Jennifer Eisenberg.”

“All right.” I yanked my larger suitcase off the floor and swung it on to the bed, glad to hear that those boys were all right. “Can I have this dressing table?”

Sandra nodded and sat on her bed. She watched me for a long time in silence as I began putting my things away. Suddenly she spoke again, “Maybe you do have to look out for the Dickinson twins. I mean, at least half of them. Alexander can be a right cad. Oliver’s all right, though.”

“He’s all right then?” I asked a little too eagerly.

She smiled as if she’d finally decided she liked me, “Yeah,” She nodded, “He’s brilliant. You don’t need to avoid him at all.”

That was the best news I’d ever heard, although her warning me about Alexander fell on deaf ears. Alex could be right foul when the mood struck him. However, I was never intimidated by his nastiness the way most people were. In fact, I must admit that if there had never been an Oliver Dickinson, his brother, Alexander, would have run away with my heart and the two of us would most likely have ended our relationship in the fashion of a double murder. This being said and despite our differences, he and I quickly became the closest of friends. Although so much like Oliver in so many facets, Alex was very different in the girlfriend department. You see, Alex changed his girlfriends like he did his pants, where Oliver was loyal almost to a fault. They were a set of dead ringers, though, physically indistinguishable right down to their fingernails, unless you knew the few subtle differences that told them apart. Looking so much alike and having to wear identical school uniforms was very much a sport for the two of them.

“Oliver, Professor Fields sent me to ask you if you have time this afternoon at four to come by her office,” A fourth year boy with short blond hair approached him in the dining hall.

“What are you calling me Oliver for when I’m Alexander?” Ollie scolded, tossing a scrap of bread at the poor boy, “Bloody hell! Don’t bother me! I’m eating!”

“Right! Tell him I’ll be there!” Alex added sharply, “Now piss off!”

They both thought this sort of thing was terribly funny. They pulled it off successfully two years in a row for final exams and once Oliver served a detention for Alexander so Alex could slip out of school early on a Friday and go see Julian Cope in concert in London with Merlyn. They could even occasionally pull it over on their own parents, but never on Headmistress Pennyweather, who knew one from the other at a glance from clear across the dining hall.

“That is thirty minutes detention cleaning dishes, Mister Alexander Dickinson, for throwing food! If you would like to win Miss Sherwood’s affection, there are better ways! Like complimenting her lovely smile or simply saying hello!” She rather sang her way between the tables, “Mister Oliver Dickinson, I suggest you put away that gum before I see you chewing it. Having it is no crime, but chewing it in any hall beside your dormitory is fifteen minutes detention!” She glanced in my direction with a smile, “Miss Cotton, so nice to see you this morning! Are you rested and ready for the Academic competition this afternoon?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good, good! We’re apt to win with you in!”

“Thank you, Ma’am, I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will!” She walked away calling, “Misters Pierce and Crosby, hats off in the school buildings!”

“She’s a nightmare,” Alex groaned when Headmistress was out of earshot. “I wish she’d get on her broom and crash into the side of a bus.”

“I think she’s a daisy,” Oliver grinned, popping his gum into his pocket. “I think she’s brilliant.”

“I know you do. You fancy that old harpy. One day I’m going to do something right awful in front of her and make her think it’s you.” Alex threatened as he lifted his spoon.

“Like what?”

“Like going up and pissing into one of those great urns with the shrubs that sit inside her office. Right in front of her, too.” His eyes were narrow. “Like when she’s having tea with parents or something. Just whip it out and…” He bit his bottom lip, imitating the motion.

“It’ll never work,” Oliver returned with little interest, going back to his cereal, “She knows full well you’re the bad egg.”

Their scam would have never worked on me, either. I could tell them apart from minute one. I could tell which one was which just by the way Oliver looked at me. It was the way he told me he loved me all the time, with those beautiful, shiny, dark eyes, right from the moment we met.

There was never a question as to Oliver and me being together. I don’t think anyone had any question about us; we were just as natural as the sky and earth. Immediately we met between classes. He always seemed to know where I’d be. If I was in the library and he had a moment, there he’d appear, whispering to me between the shelves. If I were coming out of a classroom and he was in the same hall, he’d wait for me in the corridor and walk with me. He saved me a seat beside him at meal tables and he always brought me back to the entrance of my hall of residence at curfew. “Just Silvia Cotton,” became, “My Sil” within a month. Mostly we hung out on the quad and in the common room with our friends, but we often went walking by the lake alone.

I loved those long walks we’d take. Those times are extraordinary, the ones when you first get together with someone special and spend all your time getting to know each other. Oliver was the most outgoing person I’d ever met. He was light hearted and funny, something that was new to me in a male. The only real encounter I’d had with any man had been my father, whose personality was something like a flannel; constant and reliable, but not the most stimulating companionship. Everyone at Bennington seemed to be fond of Oliver and he greeted them all with the same warmth. He had a knack for being sensitive, but just when you thought he was a complete pushover, he’d come out swinging like any other lad. Neither Oliver nor Alexander were small boys. They were both imposing figures, standing at least a head taller than the next tallest teenager. They sported broad shoulders and muscular physiques and had large hands. Both of them were fearsome on the rugby pitch as well, so much so that opposing players occasionally hesitated to approach them and once or twice actually ran away. I would have thought that rugby would have been Alexander’s game as he was usually the more aggressive of the two, but Oliver was an animal on the pitch. His transformation into brutality amazed me because, in general, he was just such so gentle.

The first time I encountered my sweet Oliver Dickinson being really naughty was three weeks into my stay at Bennington. I was walking down the corridor in the East wing during my free period when I saw him and Alexander huddled together in a corner.

“Hi, Ollie!” I said brightly, coming up from behind, “Hi, Alex!”

“Shush!” He and Alexander said simultaneously. Oliver didn’t turn to face me. He was obviously too busy with something, but Alex spun and put his finger against my lips.

“Sorry,” I whispered as he removed it. I could see Oliver now since Alex had shifted. He had an Eppendorf tube in his hand and was frantically packing something into it.

“What are you doing?”

“Shush, Silvia!” This time he turned and they both waved a hand at the floor to prove they meant it.

I stood there in silent compliance with no idea of what they were up to. I was still quite dumb to them and their evil ways at that point.

“Is it ready?” Alex breathed.

“Yeah. Is he coming?” Oliver whispered, pinching the top on to the vial. “Is he on time?”

Alex looked over his shoulder and sniggered, “He’s by the end of the way, he is.”

Both of them stood up and straightened their jackets. Oliver looked at me and winked, then took two steps forward and hailed another student, “McGuigan!” He said quite loudly, “You need my notes for laboratory.”

Josh McGuigan stopped about ten feet away and eyed the twins suspiciously.

“Come on!” Alex said curtly. “We’ve been waiting for you! You want to make us late?”

I knew Josh from my philosophy class. He was a nice boy, but he had a terrible case of psoriasis that left him with open sores on his hands and neck, and probably other areas of his body as well that he kept covered at all times. I recognized his ailment immediately because my father suffered from the affliction from time to time. I knew that it wasn’t contagious, only ugly and painful to its bearer. Most people didn’t know that, though, or they were at least insensitive enough to avoid or tease poor Josh.

I’d come upon Oliver having a chat with Josh one afternoon in the courtyard. When Josh left Oliver mentioned that he felt badly for the boy. “I like him,” He said as he took my hand and led me down the hall, “We’re mates,” He paused, “Well, sort of like. He’s good at taking a joke, mind. I took him on as my lab partner second year without asking him to be. I’d watched him always left standing alone, being the last one chosen, so I just walked over and chucked my books on the table and told him to shove over.” Oliver looked at the ceiling as he continued, “I didn’t see Old Josh’s dorm mate walking around with big, nasty scabs all over him so I figured it was safe to exchange a couple of test tubes with the bloke. I hate that, you know? When people are rubbish to somebody who's done nothing to harm anybody.”

I nodded. I hated that, too. What a good heart Oliver Dickinson had. His kindness often went unnoticed, but it never failed.

Josh didn’t say a word in response to either of them the morning they stopped him in the corridor. Instead, he sighed and came forward, reaching out his hand to take the notes from Oliver. Just as he was about to collect them, however, Alexander smacked Oliver’s hand at the wrist with such force that the papers scattered across the ground.

“You dickhead!” Oliver gave his brother a shove, “Why’d you do that?”

I wondered the same thing. It seemed such a senseless act, but within seconds it was all too obvious why he’d done it. As Josh bent down to pick up the papers, Oliver pretended to help him, As he leaned down, he dropped the vial into Josh’s pocket. Josh didn’t notice.

“Ah, who cares?” Alex demanded, stealing my arm, “I’m taking your Sil and we’re going. You two bore us shitless.”

I allowed him to haul me off. “What was that about?” I asked as he dragged me around a corner and sat with me on one of the benches outside along the corridor. “That was rude, Alex!”

“Just wait,” He grinned. He looked just exactly like Oliver when he smiled. Breathtaking, really, how closely the two of them resembled the other.

“What did you two do to poor Josh? I thought you three were friends!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said quietly, giving my shoulder a playful squeeze, “It’s a game! Josh knows it! He gives it right back!”

Oliver appeared around the bend and sat on the other side of me. Immediately, those two began to snigger, “About fifteen seconds, I’d reckon,” Ollie said, turning to peer back at the direction he had come. “I can hear the girl’s football team coming up the corridor…”

“What’s going—“ I began to ask the question, but was never able to finish before there was a loud bang that sounded something like a gun shot. Seconds later, a flock of startled girls in their football uniforms ran squealing around the wall past us out on to the quad. About ten feet behind them followed Josh McGuigan, his mouth open in a silent scream, moving at full speed. The dishevelled notes were still clutched in his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Professor Rankin, the physical education instructor, jogged into the quad to gather her distressed team. “Is everyone all right? Is everyone here? Calm down, Ladies!” She shouted, and then paused, “Joshua McGuigan? What on Earth are you doing out here with the girls? Go on! Go to class! Clear off or I’ll give you detention!”

Oliver and Alexander howled with laughter.

Josh’s face was deep red as he walked off the quad. He looked at the twins, shook a fist at them, and began to chuckle.

The boys doubled up.

I didn’t need to ask what they’d done. I knew Oliver had packed that test tube with dry ice. Dry ice packed tightly enough in an Eppendorf tube will explode. It shouldn’t have hurt Josh, not inside his pocket, but it certainly went off with a bang that was amplified between the stone walls of the corridor. Timing it so it happened as the girl’s football team was leaving the dressing room was just a stroke of genius.

“You are evil!” I told Ollie, giggling along with the two of them.

“Yes, but you love it!” He swore and patted my knee just as Madame Pennyweather rounded the corner. She stood in her black dress with her pointed shoes planted firmly on the concrete and gave the three of us such a stern look that we immediately jumped to our feet. I thought she was deciding on a reprimand, but instead she just glared at us. She shook her head and disappeared back into the wing.

“Wow,” Oliver muttered, “She let us go! You’re our lucky charm, Silvia!”

“Damn straight,” Alex added, “Can I rub your bum for luck?”

Oliver punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

That night, Oliver and I decided to have a stroll together after supper. It was quite cold, unseasonably so, and in a hurry to have him all to myself I had not worn anything other than my uniform jumper for extra warmth. I had my arms crossed tightly in front of me, shivering as we walked along. Oliver was chattering on about an out of control rugby match he was involved in once when he stopped and turned, “Cold, Sil?”

I nodded, allowing my teeth to click together, “I didn’t think it was this chilly!”

He pulled off his uniform jacket and put it around my shoulders. “Put this on. Better?”

“Oh, yes.” I could feel the warmth from his body inside it. I slid my arms into the sleeves and stretched my fingers to see if I could poke them out. I couldn’t. When he wasn’t looking I took a second to turn my head and sniff his collar. It smelled like soap mixed with the freshness of the earth after a good rain, with just a hint of burned wood. I closed my eyes and smiled. The scent of him made me cheerful. It was the essence of Oliver and a fragrance I would smell for many years to come; only I didn’t know it then. All I knew at that moment was that he was fantastic and smelled wonderful and I was in his school coat and that all things in the universe seemed correct and proper.

It was then that he held my hand for the first time. He rolled back the sleeve of the jacket, took my hand in his and looked at it carefully, “You have beautiful hands, Silvia,” He said simply, then he wrapped his fingers through mine as we strolled on. “Cold, but beautiful.”

With no fanfare, he continued to tell me about the game, giving a quick wave to his mates who were hitting golf balls into the water.

“Want a go?” Alexander called out.

“No, taking a walk with my Sil,” He shouted back, “Nice swing, though, Lance! You looked very tall when you did that!”

Everyone laughed, including Lance.

We walked on, around and around the lake until the bell rang for curfew. I was in heaven. Heaven! No boy had ever taken the time away from his mates to walk with me before, much less hold my hand in front of them. Oliver’s hands were large and warm and strong. Just the way I thought a boy’s hands should be. Every time we met from then my hand was in his as if it belonged there naturally.

We did have our differences. We discovered this one lazy, rainy Saturday as we sat at one of the tables in the fifth year common room. The topic of discussion was “I want to know everything about you”. Quite literally, as Oliver had wandered into the room, sat across from me and said, “Good morning, Silvia. Put your book away, because I want to know everything about you. Now, tell me exactly when and where you were born.” After that, our conversation had wandered all across the board.

“How can you only be Scottish? You’ve nothing else mixed up in there?” He asked.

“I’m just Scottish as far back as I’m aware.” I knew I had English and Irish in me as well a ways back, but I didn't say it, “I’m sure that there’s something else in there somewhere, though I don’t like to admit it.”

“Purist, I see. Well, I’m a couple of things. Welsh, primarily, of course. My mother’s side is Welsh, Irish, English and German. My father’s side is Welsh, English and French, but my great grand mum. She was from Egypt.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s where you get the dark skin and those dark, mysterious eyes.”

“Must be,” He paused. “Tell me something odd about you, Silvia.”

“Odd? I don’t know. I’m quite boring.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Actually, I am. Let me think. Oh! I don’t like purple.”

“That’s all right. I don’t like cake.”

“How in the world could anyone not like cake?” I was bewildered. “It’s soft and sweet even without icing. What do you eat on your birthday?”

“Mum gives Alex cake. I eat hot sausages.”

“You stick candles in hot sausages?”

“No, not in the sausages. In the ice cream.”

“You’re barmy!”

“So says my mum. What I can’t understand is why you don’t like the colour purple.”

“I hate purple!”

“How can anybody hate purple? Purple is the colour of kings and queens! It’s noble!”

“I hate purple because I knew someone once who was all about purple. I had to room with her at my old school and everything had to be purple. The twat was obsessed with bloody purple! Her bed, her lamp, most of her clothes…all purple! She went as far as having pencils that were purple and smelled of grapes! Ugh! I couldn’t stand her! She was a pathological liar as well! I mean, she lied so much she actually believed her own lies! She had really bad breath and she snored like an ogre! And she never brushed her teeth, either! She wore so much hairspray that her hair moved in one solid brick when she scratched her head! Oh! I still can’t stand her! To this day she makes me want to pass my lunch straight out my nose!”