Bang Gang

He raised his hands. “I mean have a fucking word, Trent. On your fucking behalf. Chill your fucking boots, will you? Pissing hell.”

“No need,” I said. “It’s fucked, mate.”

“If you say so.”

I ordered another fucking beer.

I put a face on it but I was shaking like a leaf. I could feel Tonya staring at me as I checked my makeup for the hundredth time.

“It’s dark, Jodie, nobody is gonna bloody see you.”

“I see me,” I said. “I’m doing it for me.”

Bonfire night was an event I couldn’t get out of, not with two girls who go crazy for sparklers and rockets and fresh doughnuts. Nanna was determined she wasn’t coming this year. She could see the fireworks from the garden well enough, she claimed. I didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

“Coats!” I said to the girls. “Scarves! Boots, too! It’ll be muddy!”

They were a whirlwind of groans and impatience, just wanted to get the hell out to the celebrations. Like there was anything to celebrate.

I chided myself. They were kids, they had everything to celebrate, they had life to celebrate. And so had I. New life. The very beginning of a brand new person in my belly.

I wrapped up warm, and Tonya linked arms with me on the way.

“She won’t be there,” she whispered. “Even she doesn’t have that much fucking gall.”

“And if she is?”

She smirked, pulled me close. “And if she is you can give her a slap again. I’ll give her one right after you.”

I rested my head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Tonya.”

I ignored the nerves in my belly. Ignored the nerves everywhere. We’d have to pass Darren’s place on the way, have to pass right by the Drum, too. The likelihood he wouldn’t be in either was slim to nil.

Unless he was Bang Ganging.

The thought still made me feel sick.

I took a breath. He probably wouldn’t even see us, probably wouldn’t care if he did. I hadn’t seen him since Lorraine’s house. He hadn’t been near since Tonya sent him packing. I’d stopped listening to his voicemails and he hadn’t turned up in person.

No Casanova crying under my window at night.

Like he’d ever cared that much.

Keep on keeping on.

The kids rushed ahead as we reached the centre of the village. I had to call them back, tell them to stay at my side. It’ll be busy, I said. I’ll lose you in the crowd!

Mia had whinged that she wanted to find Daisy, but she was still bloody grounded so she could rock on with that idea.

I was alright until Ruby started up.

“Can we go call on Dad? He can come with us, right?”

I couldn’t find the words through the stupid lump in my throat. Tonya came to my rescue.

“Your dad’s probably busy, Ruby. See him another day, yeah?”

“But it’s fireworks night! He always comes to fireworks night!”

“Not today,” I managed. “He’s just busy, Ruby. I’ll drop you at his tomorrow maybe, alright?”

She scowled at me. “This is bullshit,” she said.

I stopped in my tracks and pulled her to face me. “And that’s a garage word, Ruby Trent. We don’t say garage words, do we?”

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “It’s bullshit, Mum. It’s just bullshit. Where’s my dad?! I WANT MY DAD!”

I rubbed my temples. “Stop,” I said. “Please, Ruby, just stop. We’re supposed to be having a nice evening. Sparklers, yes? You want some sparklers and some doughnuts and to see the bonfire, don’t you?”

“I want my dad!” She folded her arms. “Why isn’t he coming round anymore?”

I looked from Ruby to Mia and back again. Mia was quiet as a mouse, hugging herself and chewing on her scarf.

“It’s only been a couple of days,” I said. “He’s been working.”

“He’s always working! It’s never stopped him before!”

I sighed. “Tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll drop you round there tomorrow. Are we going to these fireworks, or do you want to show off and go home to bed?”

It broke my heart to see the tears in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled, but she nodded.

“Oh, Ruby.” I pulled her in to my side, squeezed her shoulder as we walked along the street.

This was shit. The whole thing was shit.

Tonya took my arm on the other side and held out her hand to Mia. Mia sighed and took it.

I choked down the tears and kept on walking, breathing through the prospect of passing through Darren Trent-ville on our way.

Just had to keep on keeping on.

I didn’t care for banter. Didn’t care for a game of fucking pool, nor darts neither. Didn’t want a fucking bar snack. Didn’t want to go and see the fucking fireworks.

I sat at the bar and drank my beer, grunted at everyone who said hello.

The guys surrounded me as the fireworks were due to start.

“What?” I said. “What’s the fucking problem?”

“You,” Buck said. “You need to get home, get to the fireworks, or loosen the fuck up.”