Ben Cheetham - The Society of Dirty Hearts

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?”

“Where’s the fucking fun in talking about it at all?” Julian snapped.

“Alright, chill, bro.” Kyle held up a conciliatory hand. “Jesus, you’re so fucking uptight these days.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t slept much in the last few days.”

“There’s no wonder about that, is there? Listen, if you want me to keep my gob shut, I’ll keep it shut.”

“Cheers. Sorry for getting shitty.”

“No worries.” Kyle passed Julian the spliff. “Have another toot on that. That’ll sort you out.”

Julian heaved the smoke out in a sigh. “Sometimes life can be a real pile of shit.”

“Tell me about it. My first class isn’t until eleven. If you hadn’t come knocking, I could’ve got in another couple hours of kip.” When Julian flashed him an annoyed look, Kyle chuckled and added. “Just kidding, bro. Look, tell you what, I’ll skip college today. We can chill around the house, head out to a few bars later, whatever. It’ll be like old times.”

“I dunno, I’m supposed to be studying.” Julian pictured himself sat alone in his bedroom, brooding. The thought almost made him groan aloud. “Actually, y’know what, bollocks to it. Bollocks to studying.”

“That’s the spirit, m’boy.” Kyle stretched out his hand. “Hey, man, don’t Bogart it.”

“I’m off to work now, Kyle,” his mum called up the stairs. “Don’t be late for class.”

“I won’t, Mum. See you later.”

They went downstairs and sat slumped in front of the morning cartoons, munching on cereal, cake, crisps and whatever else took their fancy. “So what’re you going to do about Eleanor?” Kyle asked.

Julian shrugged. He didn’t know what he was going to do about her. He didn’t know what he was going to do about Mia, the dreams, university — about anything. His thoughts were as confused as his emotions. A feeling of dizziness, like vertigo, swelled up inside him. He attempted to shove it back down with a deep suck of smoke.

“Do you still like her and all that?”

“Sure I like her.”

“Yeah, but do you, y’know, really like her? ’Cos I mean, and don’t take this the wrong way, bro, if you don’t really like her, maybe you should keep your distance from her.”

“Fucking hell, Kyle, you sound like my mum.”

“Alls I’m saying is-”

“Yeah, I know,” cut in Julian. “She doesn’t deserve to be fucked around by the likes of me.”

“Well she doesn’t.”

“Just drop it, will you. All I want to do is get stoned and think about nothing.”

At midday, they dragged themselves out of the ruins of their gluttony for a tour of the local pubs and bars. By the time they got to The Cut, they were staggering drunk. Some of Kyle’s college mates were there. There was a lot of gossip about Joanne Butcher. A rumour was doing the rounds that she’d fled town after getting in deep with a drug dealer. Julian kept a sharp eye on Kyle, who sat chewing his lips, obviously struggling to keep the secret from bursting forth. When Kyle’s mates drifted away, Julian fell to muttering into his pint, “Trapped in a box. Ah, what’s the fucking point?”

“What are you gibbering about?”

“University. I mean, it’s all a load of bollocks anyway. And when it’s over I’m just gonna end up back where I started. So what’s the fucking point of it? Way I see it, I might as well jack it in right now and go to work for my dad.”

Kyle choked out a mouthful of smoke. “Fuck me, bro, you really have had too much to drink. Come on, let’s go get a burger.”

The food sobered Julian up a bit. A dull ache grew in his head, as he thought about his mum, about the lines around her eyes and the worry he’d seen in them that morning. “I’d better get home.”

“Aw, do you have to?” said Kyle. “It’s only early.”

“I really need to lie down, close my eyes.” Julian didn’t say sleep. He wanted rest, but not sleep. Not until he was too tired to avoid it.

As they left the fast-food restaurant, a junky black car pulled over in front of them, grinding rock music pumping out of its windows. Mia was sat in the back. In the front was the older woman and, behind the steering wheel, one of the men Julian had first seen her with in The Cut. Mia wound down her window and said to Julian, “Hey, rich boy. What you up to?”

“He’s going home,” said Kyle, as offhandedly as he dared when it came to Jake Bradshaw’s sister.

“We’re heading out to the bridge,” said Mia, ignoring him. “You want to come along? Just you, not your friend.”

Kyle tugged Julian away from the car. “Come on, let’s go.”

Julian shook himself free and started around the back of the car. “What the fuck?” said Kyle. “I thought you-”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Julian cut him off. He ducked into the car. Mia flicked Kyle the finger and wound her window back up.

“Well fuck you too,” yelled Kyle as the car accelerated sharply away.

The car’s interior stank of fast-food and dope. The driver bobbed his head to the music, stroking his free hand up and down between the woman’s legs, over her torn stockings. There was a tattoo of an inverted cross on the back of his hand. The woman took a sheet of translucent yellow paper printed with a grid of cutting lines from the glove-box. She tore off two five-mm squares and, as if inserting contact-lenses, carefully placed one under each of her eyelids, before passing the sheet to Mia.

“What’s that?” Julian asked.

“They’re called windows.”

“Because they’re see-through.”

“Because they let you look through the window and see stuff that’s normally hidden.”

“Like what?”

Mia shrugged. “Whatever’s on the other side. Want one?”

Julian shook his head. “The way I’m feeling, I’d probably have a bad trip.”

“There are no bad trips on this shit,” said the man. “It’s the fucking bomb. I’m telling you, until you’ve fucked on this stuff you haven’t fucked. No shit. It’s like, wow, man!”

“Whatever it is, I’m not up for it.”

“Suit yourself, mate, all the more for the rest of us.”

When they got to the bridge, blankets slung over their shoulders, they descended the steep bank. The man got the fire going, then he and the woman moved off into the shadows and lay down together. Mia and Julian sat close to each other, not touching but close, not talking for a while, listening to the couple screwing. “So did you find someone else to fuck?” asked Julian. He didn’t want to ask the question, but somehow he couldn’t help himself.

“Why?” Mia looked at him sidelong, her eyes flickering in the firelight with something that might’ve been amusement. “Have you changed your mind about fucking me?”

“No,” Julian said forcibly, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

Mia started laughing. She laughed so hard that tears filled her eyes. Suddenly, she caught her laughter and asked, “Have the coppers told you anything else about Jo, about how she died?”

“No.”

Mia’s gaze moved to the river. The same far-horizon look came into her eyes — the same only a little dreamier and more pained, almost as if she was watching some part of herself being carried away by the current. “Sometimes I think Jo’s lucky,” she said. “At least she’s out of this shit.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that. Things can’t be that bad.”

“They can’t?” Mia jerked her dilated pupils to Julian. “Why can’t they? What the fuck do you know about my life?”

“I…nothing,” stammered Julian, taken aback by the vehemence of her question. “But if you want we can, y’know, talk about it and stuff.”