183 Times a Year (28 page)

CASSIE

OMG! Oh my actual bloody god. I could cry. No, actually I am crying. And now I look like Maisy – I mean Maniac, or whatever the fuck her bloody name is – coz my make-up's running all down my bloody face. Could this night get any worse? Half the equipment's not working, including one of the keyboards, there's problems with the lighting and once again, once
a fucking gain
that knob head, dickweed, idiot, stupid, moron wanking excuse of a father of mine is not coming to see me. AGAIN! Add to that the fact Joe – who is supposed to be my boyfriend (although we're not actually official) – is also now not coming. Even though he bloody prooooomised me he would. And, just to finish me off completely, to add insult to injury, Mum and Simon may not be coming either. Take me out the oven. Stick a fork in me. I'm sooooo bloody done.

Simon text to say Mum slipped over in the snow and now her ankle has like completely swollen up like a balloon or something and she can barely walk. What idiot wears heels in the snow for god bloody sake? Simon thinks she may have a concussion too coz apparently she keeps saying it's a good job she kept her knickers on or something?

Luke and Useless have been like well sick and told me not to get too upset. Useless even made me laugh and said he could probably speak to some Polish gangsters and get a hit out on Dad and Joe if I want. He was only joking of course, at least I think he was? Honey is like soooooo sweet and is going to completely reapply my make-up for me. Pheebs has also texted me back (I'm like so glad we're friends again) after my major meltdown text to her and she's promised to come and support me, despite like throwing up every ten minutes.

I still can't believe she's pregnant. I know it's the last thing Mum would want for me but Pheebs seems like well happy. I
don't
envy her and I don't wish it was me but I wish Joe would love me the way Charlie loves her. He's bought them a house and everything. Apparently he was left some money by a dead relative or something, which he's used as a deposit. God, Pheebs is actually going to be like a real live Mum to a real live baby! Freaky!

Chapter 24

THERE'S A FUNKY PURPLE HAZE AROUND THE MOON

LIZZIE

‘Simon I'm fine,' I snap as I try to hobble up the stairs to the seating area for tonight's college performance. I'm not of course. The pain, caused by the rather unsightly, bruised and battered purple cankle of my left leg is intense. I tripped, as Dad would say “arse over tit” and fell, twisting and landing with all my weight on my ankle whilst leaving the restaurant earlier this evening. Luckily Mum was on hand to give me one of her horse pill painkillers which, when consumed with large amounts of alcohol doesn't exactly get rid of the pain but has left me with an interesting woozy feeling.

‘You're a bladdy idiot encha,' Dad scolds me; ‘you need to get to a bleeding hospital. That leg looks like it needs seeing to.'

‘I can't let Cassie down Dad. Scott's not coming – again.' Dad rolls his eyes and shakes his head, muttering expletives under his breath.

‘When have you ever let that gal down?' he continues. ‘Besides, we're here for her, me and yer Mum. She'll be fine.'

‘No Dad,' I reply, grimacing as I try to move my leg to get comfortable. ‘I need to be here for her.'

Only because you're afraid of her
.

I look down at my purple throbbing ankle. The swelling, at
first
the size of a tennis ball now appears to be the size and shape of a rugby ball.

‘Independent little bagger,' Dad grumbles on. ‘Always were and still bladdy is.'

Suddenly the lights dim, large stage curtains swish open and through an explosion of stage lights we, the audience, are suddenly exposed to an eruption of dance and sound. An inordinate combination of gyrating bodies moves this way and that, merging with rhythmic sounds pulsating across the stage and beyond.

‘Look, there's Cassie,' Connor shouts excitedly, waving his outstretched arm towards the left of the stage.

‘Where?' says Dad, squinting and putting his glasses on for a better look. ‘There, there!' Connor continues pointing excitedly.

My ankle throbs in time with the base line of the pumping music as my eyes search frantically for Cassie amongst the throng of performing bodies. I spot her, one of two keyboard players. She is in a standing position, head down, hands spread-eagled and fingers moving with lightning speed across the black and white keys of the red Nord she's playing. She looks up from time to time laughing, the movement of her head metrically modest. I stare incredulously at the woman before me; my daughter, bane of my life, jewel in my crown.

‘She looks good doesn't she?' Simon says squeezing my hand. I look up at him and smile.

The intro song finishes and the stage quickly clears. For the next hour-and-a-half we are entertained by an array of interesting dance and musical acts. Some are, shall we say,
different
, especially a number of the contemporary dance interpretations of classical ballet.

‘Gawd “n” Bennett, fat girls in tutu's? What's that all about then?' is I believe how Dad phrased it.

Some of the student rap songs also prove to be rather
interesting,
particularly one called
Suspect
performed by Marcus otherwise known as Mar Cus a.k.a Straight Trip. I'm not even going to attempt to ask Cassie what that's supposed to mean. Wearing trackie's that fall below his boxers and a snap back cap, circumspectly balanced on a rigid quiff; Mar Cus a.k.a Straight Trip covets the microphone handed to him and virtually eats the black spongy muffler as he begins his rapid recital:

Everybody say yeaaaah Oh oh oh…
Hey eh eh eh… Oooooh yeaaaah…

Yooos my mumber one SUSPECT My baby girl RESPECT
Heart like an eight track Makes me go EEERECT Oh oh oh…
Hey eh eh eh… Oooooh yeaaaah…

Yooos my number one SUSPECT So you is so RUSTIC
Don't you see?
I is your number one GANGSTA
…Not a HAMPSTER
Who ain't free
You do me Up, I do you down Yooos in luck
So don't leave town
Yooos my SUSPECT, but trust it Yooos gonna love it when I THRUST it In the place yooos wanna be, WITH ME

Yooos my mumber one SUSPECT My baby girl – RESPECT
Heart like an eight track Makes me go EEERECT Oh oh oh…
Hey eh eh eh… Oooooh yeaaaah…

Although actually quite awful the
Suspect
Rap and its Rapper
prove
to be entertainingly compelling. He finishes to a rapturous applause and one very confused looking audience member – namely Dad.

‘What the bleedin hell was that all a-bleedin-bout?' he says, turning to look at me.

I shrug my shoulders and smile. ‘Who knows Dad?'

All is hush, the hall once again quiet and bathed in darkness. Two spotlights then interrupt the shadows and shine across the stage but their contents are empty?

Clearly the technicians have missed the mark. After dancing around the stage for several seconds the spots finally locate two patiently waiting individuals. Standing in one circle of light is Cassie and in the other the talented Miss Ripley, or as she is simply known to all and sundry, Honey.

Cassie begins to play and I well up; not just from the pain of my ever-growing cankle but from the beautiful melodic waves of sound dispersed from expertly played black and white keys scattering a rainbow of familiar resonance. After Cassie's brief solo performance Honey joins in and between them they hypnotise the audience with their version of Bob Dylan's
‘To Make You Feel My Love,'
recently covered by the lovely Adele of course.

‘See, I told you she was good didn't I?' Mum says as she always does; the pride in her eyes as evident as my own. And clearly we're not the only ones to think so. The applause is thunderous. Connor whistles his appreciation through four fingers (as taught by Uncle Sean), whilst Dad yells,

‘Gow on gal.'

Mum claps with such vigour I'm reminded of an over enthusiastic seal dancing for fish. I swear her hands have actually turned red. Maisy, who never claps for anyone, is also demonstrating her appreciation through applause, albeit rather lethargic and in time with the constant movement of her gum
chewing
jaw.

‘She's good Lizzie, really good,' Simon says turning to look at me. ‘But then we always knew that didn't we? I couldn't be more proud you know?'

‘Thanks babe.' I smile. ‘It's just a pity that … well, you know … that he …' I stumble to get the words out but we both know who I'm talking about.

‘Fuck him, his loss.' Simon waves his arm dismissively but in doing so inadvertently knocks my leg and throbbing ankle.

‘Ooouuuch,' I wince in pain.

‘Told ya,' Dad says with smug satisfaction. ‘You need to go the bleedin hospital.'

‘Here, have another pill,' Mum offers as she begins rifling through her oversized handbag. ‘Keys? No. Hand-cream? Nope. Mints? No.'

Mum passes these and other various items to Dad who sits patiently with open arms, receiving what appears to be the entire content of her bag as she continues her search for the horse pills she'd given me earlier. Dad's look is one of resignation until he spots the half eaten roll of mints.

‘Mmmmm, mints. I'll have one of those,' he says.

‘Tissues? No,' Mum continues. ‘Lipstick? No. Sausage? Uggghh! Oh dear, so that's where it went,' she says sniffing the contents of a sinister looking napkin. ‘I brought that home for Freddy the other week. Purse? No. Light bulb? No.'

‘Light bulb?' Dad exclaims, now balancing the booty from Mum's bag precariously on his knee, including – and without packaging – a forty-watt light bulb. ‘What the fu…?'

‘Ah hah! Here we go,' Mum says rattling a white plastic bottle at me. ‘Painkillers!'

I tilt my head back and greedily chuck another pill down my throat.

When I look up again Cassie is once more poised at her
keyboard
but is now joined by several recognisable college friends including Simone on drums, Sam and Justas on guitar and Jake on vocals. Honey, who has now swapped the microphone for her instrument of choice, cavorts provocatively across the stage with a saxophone that proves to be longer than the tiny dress she wears. They are all members of The Incandescent Adolescents, the band they formed at college. The only member I don't recognise is a slightly older looking boy playing bass? As the band start to play I recognise the sound. It's an original song Cassie and The Incandescent Adolescents have practised, re-practised, fought and shed tears over during the last few weeks of rehearsal at our house.

The song, like the band (according to Cassie) has a gritty, indie feel about it but it's also full of humour. It was decided that Jake, a tall, gangly boy with blue eyes, black hair and a cheeky dimpled smile had the energy and attitude to deliver the vocals. A front man with … well, front.

As Jake swaggers across the stage and assertively grabs the mike, I have to agree, he definitely has the preposterous stage presence required to deliver such a song. Guitars are strummed; drums banged and keyboards struck, to form a veritable cadenced jamboree. Jake cracks a huge smile. It's a mischievous smile and far too knowing for his young years. He bounces on the spot, once, twice, three times then begins to sing. His voice is raspy and raw, compelling to listen to:

Woke up this morning Feeling rather crap Mamma said, son

Where d'you get that cap?

Coz there's a funky purple haze around the moon Yeah, there's a funky purple haze around the moon Funky purple haaaze

Funky
purple haaaze

Yeah, there's a funky purple haze around the moo ooo oon

My Father said,

Hey boy get your hair cut, And I said get outta here Kiss my Butt

Coz there's a funky purple haze around the moon Yes, there's a funky purple haze around the moon Funky purple haaaze

Funky purple haaaze

Yes, there's a funky purple haze around the moo ooo oon

Sped off to work,

In the Bro's white car When all I wanna do Is smoke a cigar

Coz there's a funky purple haze around the moon Yes, there's a funky purple haze around the moon Funky purple haaaze

Funky purple haaaze

Yeah, there's a funky purple haze around the moo ooo oon

Fags and a Lighter And the skanky git

Mix em together

What the hell d'ya get?

Coz there's a funky purple haze around the moon Yes, there's a funky purple haze around the moon Funky purple haaaze

Funky purple haaaze

Yes, there's a funky purple haze around the moo ooo oon.