by Michael Sharpe
Kevin Mosely was pretty pissed off when he woke up. He got out of bed, walked over to the window and threw the curtains open to reveal a beautiful morning, sunny enough to welcome spring and the Easter holidays. Sadly, that only made it worse. Here he was, seventeen years old with his own car and a beautiful day to drive it in, and he was grounded, like a little kid... and him a sixth former at the most prestigious school in the county. He couldn't decide who to blame the most: his kid brother, Desmond, for thinking up the prank, or his sister, Cheryl, for falling for it. That it might be his own fault for agreeing to join in with the practical joke, him a sixth former at the... you know the rest... never occurred to him.
He decided that it was mostly Cheryl's fault. If she wasn't so gullible then the boys wouldn't play so many jokes on her, would they? It was Mum's fault as well. She should get Cheryl to toughen up instead of coming down hard on the boys every time Cheryl went whining to her. Cheryl's hockey coach had the right idea, Kevin thought to himself. A couple of months ago Cheryl had played like a pudding and cost her team a win. Her team mates had given her some real wellie for it and the coach had encouraged them. Now look at Cheryl, starring for the school team; for the first team no less, playing alongside seventeen and eighteen year olds and looking good.
Why couldn't his mum take that sort of attitude? Instead, as soon as Cheryl started whining, him and Desmond were hauled in front of her. Poor Des was turned over Mum's knee with his pants pulled down and had his bare arse tanned with the back of a hairbrush. Even then, Cheryl was a soppy cow: instead of enjoying her younger brother's punishment and laughing at his antics while he kicked and struggled on his mum's knee, she was sighing and biting her nails and even had tears in her eyes.
Kevin had taken time out of his own misery to laugh out loud at Desmond's performance. The funniest part was when the hairbrush split and the two sharp edges pinched the kid's bare bottom leaving a long thin purple bruise. God, how Des had howled and how Kevin had laughed until Mum shut him up with a glare.
Mum had decided, reluctantly it has to be said, that Kevin was too old for similar treatment and instead he was grounded for the whole of the Easter holidays. Well, that was what Mum had said at the time when she was still angry, but Kevin knew from experience that she would never keep it up for two weeks. With a bit of luck he would only have to serve this weekend at the most and if he played his cards right, he might even escape that.
Kevin was the last down to breakfast that Saturday morning, which wasn't saying much as the family were not at full strength. Desmond had already disappeared for a week's camp with the Scouts and his father, Councillor Mosely, was away over Easter on Council business. There had been a time when Mrs Mosely had accompanied her husband on these trips but these were hard times economically, what with the country in hock to the IMF and a stiff prices and incomes policy in force and the Council could no longer afford the luxury of families on business trips. As Councillor Mosely had said himself when he had moved the motion to scrap the travel allowance for wives, "At times like these, when we can scarcely pay to have our hard working secretaries on these trips, wives are a luxury we cannot afford and the electorate will not tolerate such profligacy."
Besides, as he said to Mrs Mosely, why on earth would she want to be bored looking around smelly fishing villages on the Portuguese Algarve when there was so much she could be doing at home.
When he walked into the kitchen Kevin found that breakfast was ready for him on the table. A packet of cornflakes and a jug of milk, a plate of cold toast, an opened jar of Robertson's Golden Shred marmalade, and a pot of stewed lukewarm tea. Mrs Mosely was already dressed for going out and she was just awaiting the appearance of Cheryl.
"I'm taking Cheryl into town," Mrs Mosely explained. "She needs something new to wear for cousin Valerie's wedding and new shoes as well. I might as well look at hats while I'm there. We'll be having lunch out and we'll probably go over and see Elizabeth Tattersall later on."
"Mrs Tattersall, yuck!" Cheryl had just entered the room and had heard the plans for her day. "Must we, Mummy? She's a terrible snob and that son of hers - tubby Malcolm - he's such a spoilt brat!"
Mrs Mosely smiled. "He's not so bad, Cheryl. He's such a pompous little pudding, he always makes me laugh although he doesn't mean to."
"Are you going in your new car, Mum? Because you are blocking me in on the drive." Kevin said. He wasn't really interested in his mother's activities. He was testing the water to gauge how serious she was about his grounding.
"How can I be blocking you in, Kevin? Considering you are going nowhere today." She raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Aw, Mum, I was hoping just to take her round the block. Just to turn the engine over." 'Her' was his new car, an almost new Hillman Imp, scarcely 12 months old, which Mr Mosely had picked up on favourable terms from one of his contacts. Being Chairman of the Transport Committee had its consolations. "It's not really going out. I mean I won't be seeing anybody. It's almost like a chore."
"And it will be really dull for him, Mummy, on a day like this. It's so lovely out." The kind-hearted Cheryl was coming to her brother's assistance.
"Mmmm," Mrs Mosely pondered, "I suppose it is too nice to be stuck indoors. You can go out but you are not to use your car. That's your punishment."
"Oh, Mum. You're an angel." Kevin threw his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.
"Don't think this means you can sneak off in your car though." Mrs Mosely extricated herself from her son's embrace. "I'm not taking my car. Parking is impossible in town on Saturdays these days since the new yellow lines. Besides, Mrs Tattersall will probably get the sherry bottle out." She noticed that Kevin's face had fallen. "And just so you won't be tempted I'm going to take your car keys with me."
Kevin was beginning to think that it was one of those things that should be filed in the folder 'Things that Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.' It was his mother's fault and not just because she had taken his car keys when she knew that he had plans for his new car. He had watched her go to the key board, a row of hooks by the front door where all the family hung their keys. She had picked up his keys and put them in the small handbag she was taking with her. To make room for them she had to take her own car keys out which she hung on the board.
After careful consideration, Kevin persuaded himself that Mum had left her keys on the board deliberately: it was her tacit way of saying that he could use her car. Of course, he might have been wrong, but if he was then as long as he got home before her she would never know. So he had taken her car and now, as he approached the roundabout at the end of the coast road, he wasn't quite sure that it had been the right choice.
Mum's car was another new one which his father had obtained through his business contacts: a gift, no doubt, to assuage his conscience about not taking Mrs Mosely on the Portugal trip. It was a nice car, a very nice car, and as far as Kevin was concerned it was a racehorse of a car. The trouble was that he had only learnt to ride on seaside donkeys and it showed as the car bunny hopped its way around the roundabout with Kevin struggling with the sharp gear box and sensitive accelerator. He managed to get it onto the road into town before he lost the engine altogether.
He came to a halt 10 yards off the roundabout and pulled into the kerbside. He had decided that he would take a few minutes to get his head together when he heard a voice through the open passenger side window.
"Nice car, Kevin," it cooed. "I thought you were bullshitting last week, but it's really cool."
The speaker was a girl he had met a couple of weeks ago at Bernies, the coffee house where his friends hung out in their spare time. He had been instantly attracted to her although she had treated him coolly and pointedly refused to give him her name. The car he had referred to proudly was his Hillman Imp, a creditable enough ride for a boy his age but nothing to compare with his mum's Sprint.
"Yeah," Kevin drawled, "nothing but the best for the best. It's a Triumph Dolomite Sprint, two litre, max. 120 per hour and off the mark like shit off a shovel. Nought to sixty in less than eight seconds."
"Means nothing to me," she said, shaking her head. Then she grinned. "I saw you chugging round the corner. Shouldn't you learn to drive properly before they let you out on the road with it?"
Kevin's face coloured up but he wasn't going to be fazed by the girl. There was something about her that he found irresistible, her smoky hazel eyes which always seemed to be looking through you, her insolent smile and the way she stood, like a cat, relaxed and tensed at the same time. "Yeah, lost a bit of power there. A bit of dirt in the carburettor, I guess."
The girl stood back and looked at the car from front to rear. "I like the colour."
"Yeah, a bit different isn't it?" Kevin was pleased that she was responding positively, "Mimosa Yellow, it's called."
She laughed and brushed a lock of fine hair from her eyes. "Bit girly though, don't you think?"
Kevin laughed with her and leant across the passenger seat to click the door open. "Get in, girly, and I'll show you how much."
She pulled her face. "No thanks. I might like fast cars but I don't like fast kids."
Kevin looked at her. He knew absolutely nothing about her, not her name, her age, what she did with herself but he was finding her magnetic. "Come on, I'll give you a lift to Bernie's. I'll buy you a coffee."
"Nah, I only called in last week to see why everyone went there. Not keen. Too many kids and posers."
"Yeah, I don't like it much either. I'm happy to cut it and take you for a spin."
The girl gave a vague shake of her head. "Nah, I'm not in the mood."
"I'll give you a lift home then."
"Yours or mine?" That knowing, ironic smile was switched on again.
"I was thinking of yours, but if you want to come back to my place we'll have it to ourselves. I'm sure we can find something to do." Kevin added his special suggestive smile.
"I'm sure you could." The girl laughed aloud, the confidant laugh of someone who was sure of themselves. She looked up and down the road while she thought. "How old do you think I am?"
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