Fatlands Read Online Free Page A

did you go before?’
    â€˜A place in Suffolk. Then when we came to London, a day school in Acton. That was OK. At least you could get away from it.’
    â€˜But then your mum left and he felt he couldn’t cope, was that it?’she chewed on her cheek. ‘Maybe he thought it was best for you.’
    â€˜Well, then he was wrong, wasn’t he?’she snapped back. ‘But he doesn’t care. As long as he’s got his rats to play with.’
    â€˜What does he do?’ Because she obviously wanted to tell me.
    â€˜He’s a scientist. Trying to cure the world of cancer.’ And although she spat it out, you could feel how it had been a thing of pride not so long ago.
    â€˜But not so good with his own family, eh?’ I let it sit there for a while but she didn’t pick it up. I tried again. ‘Is that why your mum left? Because he worked all the time.’
    She shrugged her shoulders. ‘She just didn’t like the idea of being at home any more. Can’t say I blame her.’
    It was the second time she had refused the jump. Whatever or, more to the point, whoever had made her go, Mattie didn’t want to talk about it. Between the lines it was all pretty classic stuff: an only child who’d got all the attention for so long that when the parents started to think about themselves, they discovered they didn’t really like each other any more. So Dad compensates through work, and Mum … well, maybe she started to talk to the milkman.
    â€˜But he does work too hard?’
    â€˜Why not? There’s no one at home to make him stop, is there?’
    â€˜Maybe they’ll get together again,’ I said, only because I thought she might want to hear it. ‘And you could come home.’
    â€˜You must be joking. They don’t give a toss about each other, any more than they give a toss about me.’she slammed her finger on to the stereo button. ‘This music sucks. I’m going to put something else on.’
    Watching her face in profile, I had a clear memory of that kind of anger, the one that overtook you from behind and burnt up everything in its path. Mine had been about … well, what had it been about? Having parents that loved me too much and wouldn’t let me out into adulthood as fast as I was determined to go. At least there was a real reason for her anger. All dressed up for life and nowhere to go, except the school playground or the no man’s land of a marital war zone. God, if there’s one thing worse than growing older, it would be a slow return to adolescence.
    The blue motorway sign told me London was less than an hour away. I thought of other things we could talk about. But she beat me to it.
    â€˜How old are you?’
    I wondered how to put it. ‘Over thirty.’ I shot her aglance. You could see she was shocked. ‘But it’s all right. I work out mentally.’
    If she found it funny, she didn’t let me know. ‘You’re not married?’
    â€˜No. No, I’m not married.’
    â€˜So how many men have you slept with?’
    Served me right, really. I mean you can’t make the conversation personal and then cry foul. I pretended to give it some consideration. As it happens, I already knew the answer. Men in my bed: just another of those lists one resorts to late at night when counting sheep doesn’t work. That and the names of the girls in my last year at school. A bit harder that one, but then we’re talking larger numbers.
    â€˜Eighteen.’
    â€˜Eighteen.’ despite herself she was impressed. You could hear it in the voice.
    â€˜Yeah, but a lot of those were SLBA.’
    â€˜SLBA?’
    â€˜Sexual Liberation Before AIDS. I’m much choosier now.’ Or
they
are, I thought, but decided not to say. She was silent for a while. My God, I thought, I really have shocked her this time. Then she said, ‘My friend Helen’s having an