Made In Hull: Stories 1969 - 2005 Part 4 (4/4) By Rich Mills

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4), Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

At the other end of the sofa to Steph was another girl of about the same age, I reckoned. Her name, as with the others if truthful when first introduced, had slipped my mind. She, I noticed sat with more ease than the rest of us. Even I was sitting quite tense, doing that rubbing my thumb round and around my index and middle fingers of my left hand thing that I had only just started doing today at moments of bubbling anxiety. Round and around I went in a constant repetitive circling motion, over and over, round and around...

Everyone seemed friendly enough, but I could see that they all pretty much seemed to display external signifiers of their own personal inner turmoil. Steph pulled her feet up and tucked them under her ample arse. Which was no mean feat for someone her size. She became even more rotund as her feet disappeared from view. Mike kept his arms firmly clasped across his chest. I mean firmly! There was tension in those tendons. This girl whose name escaped me sat with a more relaxed ease, leaning forward smoking a cig. Leaning further still she reached out and pulled the coffee table towards her, stubbing out the cig in the already overflowing ash tray on top of the magazines.

Steph took this as an opportunity to grab a mug from off the table and clutch it to her bust. The warmth and security of a good cuppa was the thought that entered my head. I could really go for a nice cuppa right now, I thought to myself. Hadn't they said something about help yourself?

God, could I remember where the kitchen was in relation to this room. Was that it there through that door I could see through the window? I dare not just get up and wander off already, I'd only just been plonked here. It seemed rude somehow. I'd been wandering aimlessly all day. Now I just wanted to sit here and not move for a while. But I really did want a good cuppa, that was the most important thought in my head at that moment. "You used to work for Club 1618+887 didn't you?" came the question from my left. I'd almost forgotten she was in the room, never mind only few feet across a small occasional table from me.

She sat in the only armchair in the room. In fact the only chair in the room, which was directly placed opposite the TV.

She drew on her fag and dotted it out into the ash tray on the small table that nestled between the sofa I was on and her chair. As she brought her hand back to rest on the cushion she had resting on her stomach, she grabbed the remote control from its resting place on the arm of her chair. "Yeah! I did," I smiled again. A genuine one this time, from the lighter recesses of my darkened heart. I knew that I recognised her face, but I'd worked with so many young people, in so many places, on so many projects, that you began to forget where you'd met them all before.

"Do you like Big Brother/" Her eyes stayed fixed on the TV as she flicked through the channels. "Yeah, I love Big Brother," I said enthusiastically. She smiled! "I went on the trip to York with you," She said turning to look at me. "Oh yeah! I thought that I recognised your face from somewhere, I just couldn't think where from". "The York trip, that was a right laugh, I really enjoyed that trip." I said. "There was that boring bloke working with you, who was miserable all day.

And then at the end of the day, on the way back, he tried to act all cool by singing crap songs into the microphone on the coach." "Didn't work did it? What a twat he was!" I laughed.

The Great Escape (Park Road and Beyond)

Sacked again! With only a week left at work. Bastards. I'd been warned this could happen. How fucking petty is that? Oh well, take it on the chin, not going to be here much longer. They're stuck here in this Northern backwater, this flatland, this featureless plain of non-existence. Can't get to me anymore. No-one can break my spirit. Nothing can stop this great escape. Nearly 36 years in the biggest little village in the world. So much more to say, but that will all come out in time. Finally the last chapter is done, and the prologue is well under way. A new partnership, good for me this time. A like mind willing to flee, not wishing to stay rooted like an old oak tree.

A get out of jail free card stamped in my passport. Just got to pack up the flat. Had my bag packed for weeks, Sam thinks it's sweet. Oh that Sam I am, Sam I am, how I do love that Sam I am. Together we have done it, together we are to start a new novel life. This time it will be a travelogue of our new found journeys. Thank you everyone for what you have done, please turn off the lights when we have gone. Copyright © 1969 - 2005

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