In Loco Parentis Read Online Free Page B

guilt again.
    Can’t get it out of my head that I’m doing something wrong even though I’m not.
    There’s no law against sleeping with your step-sister far as I know. There’d be no weird mutations if we had a child.
    It’s just the image of what Mum might say and unless she comes back from the dead there’s nothing she’ll say about anything ever again.
    I drive down the Archway Road, pass under Suicide Bridge.
    Feel better to be home in a city where anonymity is king.
    â€“–––––––
    no place to hide
    T he phone rings at 9 o’clock. I’m in bed. A week of staying up all night for cuddly chats and sex, topped off with the drive has done me in.
    I let it ring. Seven bells and it stops. I daren’t pick up to take the message, so I put the pillow over my head and try to sleep.
    It rings again at 10, 11 and midnight, then at 6 a.m.
    When I eventually check for a message, there’s only one.
    â€œJC, you’re a tramp. A streak of yellow in a pot of piss. I hate you more than ever.”
    I think there was a sob at the end. Dial again. Definitely a sob.
    I could drive there right now. Put my arms around her. Stay there forever.
    Instead, I pull the pillow over my head again and hold on tight to my insides to keep the pain within.

the girl in the jogging bottoms
    When I first got to the café, I walked on by. Thought better of going in.
    From the corner of my eye, I could see that it was packed, all the more chance I’d not been seen.
    I can’t say for sure what brought me back. Thinking about her in the bikini or the memory of her scent, or because I’d agreed to go. Whatever it was, I turned round as soon as I’d crossed the road.
    When I go in they’re easy to spot.
    Emma’s red hair shines like a beacon, her smile beaming like a nuclear accident.
    Vince’s face is covered in chocolate smudges and Sheena’s chewing on a mouthful of cake.
    Roger sits with his arms folded across his chest, resting on the top of his paunch. His lips stay dead straight as he talks to a man I don’t know, a huge guy with a face that suggests blood pressure problems.
    I’m not sure who to go to first.
    Inevitably it’s Emma who does the work. Holds out her hand, pulls me over and gives me a kiss. I feel her squeeze my fingers and wish I’d not turned back.
    Vince gets a ruffle of the hair, Sheena a hug. They greet me like I’m the second coming.
    Roger stays seated as he shakes my hand. His lips stay straight and he looks away.
    Me and the big guy are introduced.
    â€œGus this is JC. JC, Gus.” We’re polite. I sense that Gus is feeling about as trapped as I do.
    A waitress comes over and everybody orders. Wine for the adults, pop for the kids. It would seem like a party if anyone was talking to each other.
    Gus and I try to get things moving.
    â€œSee the football,” he asks.
    â€œYeah. Who’d you support?” Lowest common denominator.
    â€œSpurs.” His hands go out as if to apologise.
    â€œCan’t be helped.”
    â€œYou?”
    â€œPreston North End. Don’t ask.”
    Having established that we’re both losers, the rest is easy. Best goals, the sending offs, a little match analysis and a couple of predictions and we’re like a burning house.
    Same can’t be said of the rest of our table.
    At least the kids are having a great time, blowing down their straws and making the fizz rise to the top of their glasses.
    Roger and Emma must have had words. The body language isn’t good. Hers is all adolescent slouching, his all closed like he’s made of stone.
    It’s like we’re waiting for something to crack, Gus and I, but nothing gives.
    The wine’s gone in a couple of minutes, the fastest I’ve seen in a civilised setting. I guess we’re all as keen as each other to leave.
    Roger holds up a note to the waitress.
    She’s over