Nicking Time (14 page)

When I wake up, I lie in bed, thinking about the night before. It was a long telling off. I think, not for the first time, that it must be quite good to be Skooshie – there are so many of them, his parents don’t really notice if he stays out a bit late. But my parents can concentrate all their attention on me – they’re always on my case. On the plus side, I don’t have to share a bedroom with three brothers, like Skooshie does. It is nice to have a room all to yourself.

My mum crashes in looking for clothes to wash. She picks things up from the floor and the chair, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“You’ve been wearing these shorts for days. They can practically stand up on their own, they’re that dirty. I’m not going into the pockets – here, you clear them out.”

I wait until she’s gone before I sort through my stuff. There’s an unexpected treat there – a sherbet dip. Those don’t usually make it to the next day but perfect for breakfast! Yeah – I bought it at the garage on the way home last night – that made me even later getting back. I frown because there’s something nagging at the back
of my mind. What was it the man at the garage said? He was surprised. “A pen? Do you want me to gift-wrap it for you as well?”

Why had I wanted a pen? What was it for? I turn the sherbet dip round and that’s when I notice the big black letters written on the back.

I bump into Bru – literally – as I sprint out of our flats to go and find him.

“Hiya,” he says. “Is it today we’re going to the park? I’ve got some money – maybe we could scrape together enough between us for a round of pitch and putt?”

“C’mon,” I say. “We need to get to the den.”

The others are deep in conversation when we get there.

“Hey!” calls Lemur. “What took you so long? We’re just wondering if it would be possible to get into Queen’s Park after dark? Or we could hang about in the bushes as it gets dark and get ourselves locked in!” He’s loud and jumping about the place. There’s something odd about it, like he’s had too much sugar or he’s trying too hard.

“I’ve got a sister,” I say, interrupting him. “Her name’s Kit. She’s two years younger than me. She’s small, with brown hair, quite annoying.”

“Midge, if you’re going to have an imaginary family member, go for a brother. An older brother – much better than a sister. That’d be a real pain.”

“I do have a sister, Hector. She calls you ‘the Inspector’
and Skooshie ‘Stookie’. She calls Bru ‘Bru’ – I think she likes him. She doesn’t like Lemur – she’s always been a bit suspicious of him. And she was right to be.”

“What?” says Lemur. “Are you feeling all right, Midge? Has the heat got to your head?”

“
Think.
” I am looking at them – Bru, Hector, Skooshie. I am trying hard not to shout. “Please think. D’you not remember when she was about five and she decided to leave home and she was heading off with her wee bag packed but the van arrived so she decided to stay, just till the next day?”

“Pal,” Bru has his arm round my shoulder, trying to calm me down. “We’re just not finding it that funny.” I shake him off furiously.

“Kit, Kit, Kit – short for Kirsty. She decided she needed a nickname because we all had one. You suggested ‘Krusty’, Skooshie, and she hit you. You must remember!”

Still blank expressions on their faces.

“Or the time she spent all the money for my birthday present on herself? She bought a big box of chocolates, which she kept. And the only thing she got me was…”

“A sherbet dip!” Hector and Bru yell at the same time as I wave the packet in front of them.

“YES!” I thrust the sherbet in Lemur’s direction. It’s like we’re in court and I’m producing the final bit of evidence that shows what a liar he is.

“Do you remember what Lemur said to us? That we’d forget it all. I bought this last night on the way home – I can’t see one without thinking of Kit. And I wrote on the back. Look.”

I hold it out. In big accusing letters:

SAVE KIT – LEMUR LIES.

Lemur looks at me with a kind of grudging respect. Then he says, “Actually I’ve never lied to you. You’re my friends. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth till now.”

He sits down on the cushions, slumps against the tree. “If I get you Kit back, I won’t have long. Can’t you see that? Didn’t you see how tired and pale I got before the ritual? I’d run out of time. But look at me now – I’m just like you. I need to do it. It’s the only way.”

Skooshie goes to sit down on one of the drums on the other side of the den. He stops himself, then steps back. It’s clear he means to give the middle of the den a very wide berth.

“It’s all right, Skoosh,” says Lemur. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I just thought – you know – we’ve been standing on the spot for months and we could’ve disappeared at any time?”

“No. I need to make it happen. It only works when I decide to take your time.”

“Nick,” I say. “Not take. Don’t try and pretend it’s not wrong.”

“Is it wrong?” says Lemur. “It doesn’t hurt them.”

I’m looking at him and I’m wondering where Lemur went. The old Lemur, the one who captained us to our famous footballing victory at the recs, who jumped up and down with delight when he watched
The Flashing
Blade,
who helped us get revenge on Mrs
Whistle-Blower
for Bru, who planked a ball in Cathkin so we could play on the pitch. It doesn’t feel like he’s here any more either.

You see, what I can’t get out of my head is all the lost stories. Stuart Coulter’s, Kit’s. The others’ – how many others? The things they were going to do. The things that would have happened to them. The people they were going to be.

Lemur’s not seeing any of that. He asked us to imagine what it was like for him but I don’t think he has at any time imagined what it was like for those other children. He needs to.

“He’d run away from home,” I say.

“Who had?” They’re all confused at this turn in the conversation.

“Stuart Coulter. He’d run away from home. The book in his bag was the only thing he was able to take with him – that and some food, just enough to keep him going for a couple of days.”

Lemur starts to interrupt but I just make my voice louder.

“Life at home was really tough, unbearable, since his mother had married again. His stepfather used to hit him. So he decided he’d go and find his dad’s brother, who lived in the Borders. He could stay there. He’d been walking for a long time and he needed somewhere to sleep and he thought the overgrown park was the perfect place. He’d be safe there. He kept patting his bag to make sure the book was in there. It had been a present from his dad. His dad had written Stuart’s name—”

“
THAT’S – NOT – TRUE!
” Lemur roars.

“Isn’t it?” I say. “How do you know? The fact is, Lemur, that he had a life and he had a story that you nicked from him. You never gave him the chance to tell you!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Not the first time,” I say. “But after that you did. I bet there was a wee girl! What about the wee girl?”

“No—”

“Did you even know all their names? Yes, because you would have become friends with them, just friendly enough to suggest exploring the deserted park together. Just enough to get them in here. So, the wee girl. I’m guessing she was called – Mary. She really trusted you. Or maybe she felt sorry for you—”

Lemur has his hands over his ears now. He’s yelling at me to stop.

“I’ll shut up if you tell us about them.”

“I don’t know about—”

“Yes,
Mary
felt sorry for you. She had a big family and she could see that you—”

“Stop. Please… stop. I’ll tell you.”

“No lies. And no half-truths. And nothing missed out, Lemur.”

“I’ll tell you everything.”

Lemur takes a deep breath, as if to steady himself.

“You’re right I didn’t know anything about Stuart Coulter. When I met him again – and this was more than thirty years after that day he fell asleep at the bottom of the tree – there was something in his eyes that made me think he knew I was somehow important to him. But he couldn’t work out how. He’d only caught
a glimpse of me, remember? But I knew it was him. It was like he had found me, even after all that time.

“I didn’t want to know anything about him. I kept my distance and I watched. And as I watched I started to feel different.”

“How?”

“Weaker, slower, paler. I remembered that empty feeling. I didn’t want to go back there.”

“How long did that last?

“Until I found someone else.”

“Whose time did you steal next?

“His name was Eric Gemmell. His father had a stall in the market. We came into the park to collect blackberries to sell.” Lemur pauses. “He was a fast runner, faster even than you, Bru. He had a dog, a scruffy little terrier called Patch. It followed me around for months afterwards.

“And yes, there was a girl. Her name was Sarah – I never found out her surname. By that time they had cleared some of the park and built on the land. Only the space in between was safe, my den. Sarah lived in one of the big houses on May Terrace. She was exploring when she found me, lying here weak and totally out of time. She liked stories – I told her all about Mount Lorredan Hall. If it hadn’t been too late for me I would have let her go. I think we would have become friends…

“She found me later too. I met her, forty, fifty years afterwards. The same pale hair, the same blue eyes.”

“Did she still think you were fun, Lemur?” I ask. “Was she still asking you to tell her stories?”

He ignores me. “They kept finding me. It always warned me that I was running out of time.”

“And what about them? How much time have they got after they see you again?”

I don’t need an answer. I know where Kit is and what’s happening to her. She’s not anywhere. She’s waiting – waiting like those other children waited. She’ll have plenty of time to wonder if I was part of it, if I said it was OK to use her and helped Lemur make it happen. She’s waiting for the moment when she will reappear, in a time she doesn’t know, among people she doesn’t recognise. Until one day she will see Lemur again. And the only consolation he’ll give her is that, although her new life is confusing and scary, it won’t be a very long one.

“And after her,” says Hector, “it was Mr Murphy.”

There’s an “Oh…” from Skooshie, as he catches up and the last pieces fall into place for him. “So that’s why he tried to strangle you. That’s why he called you a thief!”

“And that’s why he told me to watch out for Lemur! He wasn’t telling me to look after him – it was a warning.”

“Joe Murphy was my friend,” says Lemur emphatically. “I went to see him when he asked me to.”

“When did you see him?” asks Hector.

“The day Midge saw me and waited for me, because he thought I was coming for him.”

“When we said Midge was imagining things?”

“Yes.”

“And I said he needed glasses?” Skooshie appears more outraged at having been misled in this than by anything else so far.

“You really went?”

“Yes, Hector, I really went!” Lemur sighs. “I realised I was being a coward, avoiding him.”

He looks quickly round us, maybe hoping somebody
will say, “Hey, Lemur, that was really brave of you.” We don’t. We’re waiting to hear what happened.

“Well?” I say when Lemur doesn’t speak. “What did Joe Murphy really say to you when you went to see him?”

“He talked about Third Lanark.”

“The football team?”

“No, Skooshie, Third Lanark the famous brand of ginger. Now shut up and let Lemur talk.”

“Joe was a big Third Lanark fan. That’s where I first saw him – coming out of the park with his dad. He talked about them all the time.”

“So when was this?”

“Some time in the 1920s.”

Skooshie looks as though he’s about to raise an objection but Bru dunts him in the ribs with his elbow.

“He talked about the last match he’d seen. His favourite player, Anderson, had scored. He described the goal blow by blow. All the passes that led up to it – he remembered every one.”

“You told us about that match,” Bru interrupted, earning a glare from Skooshie. “You described it to us.”

“Yes. I got that from Joe. I wasn’t able to get inside the ground. It’s funny. Though I’ve been around since Cathkin was just a field and I saw the stand and the terraces being built and the park being laid out, I had never been inside until we went. Going there with you was the most special thing I’ve ever done.”

We look at each other. Cathkin. Just one of the many things that glue us together.

“Joe – Mr Murphy – told me when I went to his flat
that he could still feel how cold it had been standing on the terraces, that he remembered stamping his feet to try and keep warm. It had been so cold that he’d wrapped his football scarf three times around his head covering his mouth – but he’d had to push it down because he couldn’t cheer properly. That he could still taste the bar of chocolate that his mother had given him to eat at half time. That he still heard the noise of the fans’ football rattles in his dreams.

“Then he reminded me about how he’d come straight to see me after the game, to tell me about it.

“Look.” He fishes a scrap of pink paper out of his pocket, unfolds it and holds it out to us.

It’s a ticket for a football match. THE THIRD LANARK ATHLETIC CLUB stands out at the top, and further down the words Saturday, 10 November, 1923. It’s in surprisingly good condition.

“That’s his ticket. He still had it when I went to see him.”

“So how do you have it now?”

“He made me take it. So that I wouldn’t forget what I’d done. Ever.”

Lemur puts the ticket back in his pocket and continues. “Joe was so excited that day. Not just about the game but also because he’d found out he was going away. His family were emigrating to America.

“‘But you won’t go?’ I said. I couldn’t bear the thought of being on my own again. I was so close to telling Joe everything.

“He said, ‘Of course I’m going! Have you any idea what opportunities I’ll have there? I’ll miss you, of
course, Christy, I will. Maybe you can come and visit me some time.’

“I don’t know if he meant it. I only knew that there was no possibility that I could ever leave here. Away from my den, I would have nowhere to hide and no way to keep going.

“So now it was too late to tell Joe. I didn’t have time to persuade him to stay, let alone explain how I needed his help. And he was so keen to go. He didn’t care that he was leaving me. That made me angry with him.”

“So he was the next one?”

“Yes… I didn’t need to do it. I had time left over. I could have waited a while but I didn’t. I took his time there and then. And his parents went off to America not even remembering they’d ever had a son.”

Lemur looks directly at me for the first time. “I missed Joe. He was a lot of fun. You wouldn’t believe how much he loved football. But hopeless at playing – two left feet. Worse than me even, Midge.”

“He must’ve been bad,” I say with half a smile, though I try not to.

“Then he reappeared here at the end,” says Lemur gloomily. “Like they always do. They find me, just before they die.”

“Why did he want to see you?” asked Hector.

“He wanted Lemur to change things back,” says Bru before Lemur can answer.

“Yes,” says Lemur. “He wanted to be twelve again.”

“But you couldn’t do it?” I ask.

“Not by then. It was too late. I had used up all his time.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No. But I think he knew.”

Oh, he knew all right. I think about Mr Murphy crying and now I know why.

“And that’s what will happen to Kit?” asks Bru. “Some day in about sixty years’ time you’ll bump into her. She’ll be an old lady but you’ll look exactly the same. She’ll know who you are, she’ll remember what happened. She’ll remember Midge, and Hector and Skoosh and me as well, but she won’t know us any more. She’ll be all on her own, with no story and hardly any time left.”

“But I can’t let go,” says Lemur. He looks like he’s about to start crying. “I can’t. I want to stay here. I want to stay with you.”

“It isn’t fair, Lemur,” I say. “Can you see Hector doing this? D’you think Bru would do it? Or Skooshie?”

He looks at me. This time he’s not avoiding the questions.

“No,” he says.

“It’s not your turn any more, Lemur.”