Starter For Ten (42 page)

The rest of the year I spent back in my old job at Ashworth Electricals, the toaster factory. I think they were pleased to have me back. Mum and Des had to put the grand opening of their B-and-B empire on hold for six months, but they were pretty good about it, and Des is all right I suppose. Spencer was up and about by April, and got a suspended sentence and a pretty hefty fine. But I managed to get him a job in Ashworth Electricals with me, and so I got to spend a bit more time with him, which was good. I didn't tell him the whole story about what happened, and he didn't ask, which was maybe best. I saw Tone a bit too, but not so much, because he always seems to be away on 'secret manoeuvres' on Salisbury Plain.

What else? I read a lot. I wrote some poetry, most of it pretty rotten, some short stories, and a radio play; a first person, stream-of-consciousness interior monologue based on Robinson Crusoe, but updated, and from Man Friday's point of view. I listened to The Hounds of Love over and over again, and decided that it is almost certainly Kate's best album.

And then in June, completely out of the blue, I got a phone call.

Anyway, must close soon. I can smell burning meat, which means it's nearly time for dinner!!!

Looking back, it was a funny time, wasn't it, Alice? Strange, I mean. The metaphor (or do I mean 'simile'???!) that keeps coming back to me is that it's a bit like when I was a kid and Dad would buy me an Airftx kit. I'd sit down at the kitchen table and before I even opened the box, I'd make sure that I had all the right tools, the right kind of glue and all the right paints, matt and gloss, and a really, really sharp craft knife, and I'd promise myself that I was going to follow the instructions absolutely to the letter, and really take my time, not leap ahead, not rush things, proceed with care, concentrate, really, really concentrate, so that at the end I'd have this perfect model plane, the Platonic ideal of what a model plane should be. But somewhere along the line things would always start to go wrong - I'd lose a piece under the table, or smudge the paint, or a propeller that was meant to revolve would get glue on it and stick tight, or I'd get paint on the see-through cockpit, or the transfers would tear as I slid them on - so that when I showed it to Dad there was something about the finished product that was somehow just ...not quite as good as I'd hoped for.

I've been attempting to use this extended metaphor as the basis of a poem, but haven't quite cracked it yet.

Anyway, all the best for the new academic year. I'll drop you a line as soon as I'm settled and then maybe we can ...

'Who are you writing to?' she says, her eyes blinking sleepily in the evening sun.

'Just Mum,' I say. 'How was your swim?'

'Very refreshing. Except I've got something in my hair.'

'Want me to pick it out?'

'Yes, please,' and without putting on her top she strolls out on to the veranda, and sits down on the floor between my knees.

'D'you want to put some clothes on first, maybe?' I say.

'D'you want a smack in the teeth, maybe? . . .'

'People can see! . . .'

'So what! God, Jackson, I swear, it's like going on holiday with Mary-fucking-Poppins . . .'

'You know, you really do swear much too much.'

'Just shut your face and look, will you? See anything?'

'Uh-huh. Looks like oil or tar or something.'

'Is it coming out?'

'Not really.'

'Think it might be easier to do in the shower?'

'Yeah, maybe.'

'So - you coming then?'

'Yeah. Alright.'

So here we are. It's early days of course. The original idea when we talked on the phone was that as we travelled around we'd definitely get separate bedrooms, or at least a room with two single beds in, but that plan proved too expensive, and sort of fell to bits on the third night, after a very long, frank conversation and a whole bottle of Metaxa brandy.

But, anyway, like I say, here we are. I'm not really where I expected to be, or even necessarily where I wanted to be, but then, who is? And I didn't expect her to be here with me either, to be honest. She still swears too much of course, but she makes me laugh a lot too. Which doesn't sound like much, but actually didn't even seem possible just a few months ago. So it's all right.

It's actually pretty much all right.

All young people worry about things, it's a natural and inevitable part of growing up, and at the age of sixteen my greatest anxiety in life was that I'd never again achieve anything as good, or pure, or noble, or true, as my O-level results. And I suppose I still might not. But that was all a long, long time ago. I'm nineteen now, and I like to think I'm a lot wiser and cooler about these things.

Thanks are due to the following people for their input, support and jokes: everyone at Hodder for their enthusiasm, in particular Mari Evans for her superb editing; Jonny Geller and all at Curtis Brown. A particular debt of thanks is also owed to Hannah MacDonald for her invaluable advice and to Roanna Benn, for her early enthusiasm. Also Douglas Kean, Michael McCoy, Josh Varney, Nicola Doherty, Emma Longhurst, Justin Salinger, Tamsin Pike, Christine Langan, Camilla Campbell, Nicholas Wilson-Jones, Olivia Trench, Susie Phillips, Crispian Balmer, Sophie Carter, Eve Claxton, Matthew Warchus and Nell Denton for wearing that dress. For dramatic purposes, certain deliberate alterations have been made to the University Challenge rules and filming procedure - apologies to any purists.

I am indebted to innumerable reference books, but in particular the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Peter Gwyn's University Challenge: The First 40 Years, both of which no home should be without. I would also like to offer sincere thanks to Bamber Gascoigne, Kate Bush, Jeremy Paxman and the 2002 champions, Somerville College, Oxford, for their unwitting inspiration.

Most of all, I would like to thank Hannah Weaver, who is on every page whether she's aware of it or not.

Thank you to the following for their permission to reproduce copyright material:

Howards End by E. M. Forster, extract reproduced by permission of the Provost and Scholars of King's College, Cambridge, and the Society of Authors as the literary representatives of the E. M. Forster Estate.

Love Cats, Words and Music by Robert Smith and Lawrence Tolhurst Š Fiction Songs Ltd. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Get Up (I Feel Like Being A Sex Machine], Words and Music by James Brown, Bobby Byrd and Ronald Lenhoff Š 1971 Dynatone Publishing Co., USA, Warner/Chappell Music Ltd., London W6 8BS. Reproduced by permission of International Music Publications Ltd. All rights reserved.

Cloudbusting, Words and Music by Kate Bush Š 1985. Reproduced by permission of Kate Bush trading as Noble & Brite, London WC2H OQY.

Perfect Skin, Words and Music by Lloyd Cole Š 1984. Reproduced by permission of EMI Songs Ltd., London WC2H OQY

Life on Mars, Words and Music by David Bowie Š 1971. Reproduced by permission of EMI Music Publishing Ltd./Moth Music/Tintoretto Music, London WC2H OQY.

Words by Joni Mitchell taken from the songs The Last Time I Saw Richard and Big Yellow Taxi. By kind permission of Sony/ATV Music Publishing.

A New England by Billy Bragg, lyrics reproduced by kind permission of BMG Publishing UK.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock Š The. S. Eliot, Collected Poems 1909-1962, reproduced by kind permission of Faber & Faber Ltd.

Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, first published by The Bodley Head, extract reproduced by permission of David Higham Associates.

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh, copyright Š Evelyn Waugh 1945, extract reproduced by permission of PFD on behalf of the Evelyn Waugh Trust.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis, copyright Š C. S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. 1950. Extract reprinted by permission.

Every reasonable effort has been made to contact all copyright holders, but if there are any errors or omissions, Hodder & Stoughton will be pleased to insert the appropriate acknowledgement in any subsequent printing of this publication.

David Nicholls is a screenwriter who created Rescue Me, starring Sally Phillips, and / Saw You, starring Fay Ripley, and co-wrote the third series of C-Šld FŤt. He was also co-writer for the film adaptation of Sam Shepherd Simpatico, which starred Nick Nolte, Jeff Bridges and Sharon Stone. Starter for Ten is David's first novel.