Mum said nothing for a moment. She took a gulp from her mug of tea. Then she said: ‘Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot. You like all that depressing stuff now, don’t you?’
I paused. Mum raked her hands through her messy bed-hair. ‘I’ll look out for anything with – I don’t know – Bauhaus in it.’
‘Who?’
‘Bauhaus. They had a record, a famous one, when I was at school. It was supposed to be the start of the goth movement. I’ll remember it in a minute.’
I looked at her with my mouth a little open. ‘Are you just making this up?’
‘I am not.’ Mum got up and moved her breakfast dishes towards the sink. ‘That’s going to drive me mad, now. I was a bit older than you are now, when it came out.’
‘Was it good?’ I was still finding this a strange conversation to be having with my mum first thing in the morning.
‘It was awful,’ she said. ‘I thought it was one of the worst things I’d ever heard. I just can’t remember the name of the record.’
‘Right.’ I started to laugh.
Mum laughed too. ‘You search for it. Bauhaus. I bet you can find the video online. I’m surprised your Zoe hasn’t heard of it – it’s just her sort of thing.’
I went over to her and put my arms around her waist as she stood at the sink washing up. I gave her a little squeeze and went upstairs to get dressed for school. She tried so hard, my mum, that sometimes it made me physically hurt inside.
10
Curse
Maybe something my dad said got to me a bit, but I plagued Zoe to make sure she went to Kerry’s church concert. We dashed in just as it was about to start and shuffled onto the end of a pew near the back.
Zoe huddled close to me. ‘It’s freezing in here,’ she hissed. ‘And I hate churches. It’s the smell. I can’t believe you’ve made me come.’
‘It’s just incense,’ I whispered back. ‘I’d’ve thought you’d love it.’
‘It’s not the incense. It’s... I don’t know... old stone. Funeral tears. Judgement.’
I linked her arm and hugged it to me. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. Anyway, they’d be great names for some perfumes. Funeral Tears, Old Stone. We should suggest them to Dead Bouquet.’
The church choir shuffled onto the altar. It was just as Kerry had said: the cuter smaller kids at the front and the older kids, including Kerry, at the back. I could see her scanning the church to see if we were there, so I gave her a little wave.
We suffered almost an hour of hymns, with Zoe leaning her head on my shoulder and making fake, quiet snoring noises in my ear. At the end, the minister made a little speech.
‘I’d like to thank everyone for supporting us this evening. It’s taken a great deal of hard work to get to this standard. We have some talented young singers – and of course, some not so talented, but we include everyone.’
‘He means Kerry,’ muttered Zoe. ‘And I bet she knows it.’
‘We believe that it doesn’t matter that some here are not able to sing well. We think the important thing is that young people take part and spend their time in this useful way,’ the minister went on.
‘He shouldn’t be going on about it.’ Zoe glared at him.
‘Not like you to stick up for Kerry,’ I murmured.
‘Yeah, well.’ Zoe looked down and examined her fingers.
‘... And I hope that you will all give generously to the collection buckets on your way out.’
Everyone clapped politely and we sprang up to be first out of the door. Kerry was slow to reach us. ‘Did you like it?’ she asked.
I elbowed Zoe before she could reply. ‘Thanks for asking us,’ I said, not answering the question. ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Sort of. The minister says maybe I shouldn’t be a singing part of the choir next time. He says maybe I should just help with the teas or something.’
Zoe coughed. ‘What happened to including everyone?’
‘Yeah, but I’m spoiling it for the others because I can’t keep the tune. He’s right, I guess,’ Kerry shrugged.
‘Very charitable,’ sniffed Zoe. ‘Let me hex him, go on. I won’t even charge you for it.’
I laughed and pushed them both out, avoiding the man who was approaching us with a jingling collection bucket. I didn’t put it past Zoe to put her hand in and take some coins out for herself.
The next day it was bright, but it had been raining, and the sudden sunshine made the pavements glitter as Zoe and I walked. Zoe glanced behind. ‘Oh, god, don’t look but our Kerry-shaped shadow is on its way. She’s trying to catch us up. Shall we run?’
‘No, stop it.’ I gave Zoe a little push. We stopped at the edge of The Cut to wait for Kerry. She caught up, breathing hard, purplish-red in the cheeks. Her eyes were red and swollen. At first, I thought it was because she’d been running, but then she gave Zoe a push in the shoulder. ‘You’re evil,’ she said. ‘I hate you. What did you do to him?’
‘Hey!’ Zoe was taken aback for a second and then she glared back, brushing her coat as if to get rid of Kerry’s touch. ‘What the hell are you going on about? Don’t push me again, or you’ll be sorry.’
‘Kerry,’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’
She started to cry. Zoe groaned and I couldn’t really blame her. Kerry was always crying. You couldn’t help getting fed up with it.
‘What?’ I said again, trying not to sound as impatient as I felt.
Between gulps, Kerry said that the minister at her church had had a heart attack and died. It had all happened out of the blue, about an hour after the concert. For once, Zoe was silent.
‘Euw,’ I said. ‘That’s awful. I mean, I’m sorry to hear
