Дэвид Муди - Strangers

‘Afternoon. What’ll I get for yous all?’

Scott studied a dog-eared laminated menu card. The pictures were faded and the prices had been adjusted for inflation in ballpoint pen. The choices were limited, but he’d expected that. No specials today , he thought, just ordinaries . Typical straightforward, unadventurous meals with bugger all in the way of flair or garnish. He was initially disappointed, then relieved. He didn’t want much, actually, just a good, hot, cheap meal to fill him up. No pretentiousness, just decent food. ‘I’ll have an all day breakfast with a side of chips,’ he said, pushing the boat out.

‘The same but without the chips,’ Phoebe added quickly.

‘Lasagne,’ Tammy said, choosing the least dodgy-looking dish she could see.

‘Chicken nuggets and chips for George, and I’ll have a baked potato with cheese and beans, please.’

Mary scribbled furiously, concentrating hard. ‘Drinks?’

‘Three teas, one coke and an orange juice,’ Michelle answered automatically, without needing to think or consult the others. Mary nodded and scribbled some more. She was about to walk away when she stopped and turned back again.

‘You the new family?’

‘We just moved here…’ Michelle started to answer before Mary interrupted.

‘The grey house?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I thought as much. I could tell from your accents that you weren’t local, and I’d heard you’d two girls and a boy.’

‘Jesus,’ Scott said. ‘There’s no privacy in Thussock.’

Michelle glared at him. Mary didn’t seem to mind. ‘News travels fast. Anyway, it’s lovely to meet yous all. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.’

‘Why does everyone call it the grey house?’ Phoebe asked, waiting for some mysterious explanation. Mary just looked at her.

‘Because it’s grey.’

‘It’s quite a change from where we were before,’ Michelle said, desperately trying to build bridges, not burn them. ‘It’s going to take a little time to get used to things, but we’re liking it here so far.’

‘That’s just grand,’ Mary said, her wide smile revealing nicotine-stained teeth behind lipstick-scrawled lips. ‘But you’ve had quite the first week of it by all accounts, haven’t you?’

Scott looked up. She was looking directly at him. ‘What do you mean by that…?’

‘Ah, don’t worry,’ she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re not all gossips here. It’s just that when you live in a place as small as Thussock, word gets around whenever anything out of the ordinary happens. Warren from Barry’s yard comes in here most mornings for something to eat. He said Barry had given you some work, and then, of course, he told me about all that terrible stuff going on with Ken Potter.’

‘It’s not been the best of starts,’ Michelle agreed, getting in quick before Scott could say anything.

‘Things’ll calm down for yous all, I’m sure,’ Mary said, looking round the table at the faces looking back at her. She ruffled George’s hair. ‘Right then, lets go get your food sorted…’ and with that she disappeared back through the beaded curtain into the kitchen.

There was an awkward silence around the table. ‘Seems friendly enough,’ Michelle said.

‘I’m not having people knowing my business,’ Scott said angrily. Michelle tried to calm him. She reached for his hand but he snatched it away. ‘It’s a frigging joke,’ he hissed. ‘Who the hell do they think they are?’

‘Don’t get angry, love, they don’t mean anything by it.’

‘I’m not having it. It’s like living in a bloody horror film round here… people getting killed and everyone knowing your business.’

‘You’re too cynical, suspicious of everybody.’

‘I’ve got every bloody right to be. I’ve been let down too many times. I don’t like people sticking their noses in. It makes me feel uneasy. I don’t know anything about anyone here, but they all seem to know a lot about me.’

‘But that’s only to be expected, isn’t it? We’re a large family from way out of the area, and we’ve moved into the middle of a small, tight-knit community.’

‘Inbred, more like,’ Tammy said, listening in.

Michelle sighed. ‘You’re as bad as each other. They don’t know about us . All they know is that we’ve moved into the grey house, as they all insist on calling it, and they know what happened with you at that chap’s house this week.’

‘I’m going to paint that bloody house next summer.’

‘I’ll help you,’ Tammy said, surprising them both.

‘You serious?’

‘Anything to get rid of the grey. It’s like living in a morgue.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Michelle said, lowering her voice again as Mary returned with their drinks. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Here we go,’ she said, handing the drinks around and getting them right. She put the orange juice down in front of George. ‘You’re a big strong lad, aren’t you?’

George just looked at her, then looked at his mother. ‘It’s your accent, I think,’ Michelle explained. ‘He has trouble understanding us sometimes, never mind anyone else.’

‘Ah, he’ll get used to us,’ she laughed, ‘and we’ll get used to him. Won’t be long with your food now.’

‘See,’ Scott whispered, ‘it’s like the bloody Wicker Man .’

‘The what?’ Phoebe asked.

‘ The Wicker Man . It’s a horror film. A policeman moves into a place like Thussock, and it turns out they’re all a bunch of screwed-up devil worshippers.’

‘What, a bit like Hot Fuzz ?’

‘Sort of. The Wicker Man came first though. The original’s a classic. In the last scene the policeman is—’

Michelle put her hand on his. ‘Come on, love, this place is nothing like that. I don’t think Phoebe wants to know about horror films.’

‘I do,’ she protested.

An elderly couple came into the café and sat down at a table nearer the counter. Mary’s voice drifted out from the kitchen. ‘That you, Edie?’

‘Aye, that’s us,’ a decrepit-looking, grey-haired woman replied.

‘The usual for yous two?’

‘Aye.’

‘Be a few minutes, love. Got a big order on.’

‘There’s no rush, Mary. We’ve all day.’

At least that was how Michelle thought the conversation went. It was difficult to make out. The locals’ accents became broader and harder to decipher when they were talking to each other. ‘You do realise that’s how George is going to talk, don’t you?’ Tammy said. ‘Did you think about that when you dragged us all up here? He’s going to end up with a Scottish accent.’

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Michelle said, though she wasn’t entirely sure how it made her feel.

‘Not if you’re Scottish,’ Tammy added unnecessarily.

The food was good. In fact, it was better than good. The only person who’d left anything on his plate was George, and his dad was now finishing off his few remaining nuggets and chips.

The café was getting busier. A group of lads had appeared, making more noise than the rest of the diners combined. Michelle noticed the way Tammy tried not to make it obvious she was watching them and, at the same time, how they were gawping at the girls. ‘You know them?’ she asked. Tammy sank into her seat, embarrassed at being seen out with her family. It wasn’t cool.

‘They’re from school,’ she replied. ‘The cocky one’s Jamie. I’ve been beating him off all week.’

‘Lucky you,’ said Scott. She just glared at him.

‘You think? Look at the state of them.’

‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘Whatever.’