He may not have found his mother, but when he went into the livingroom in search of the phone, he did find Glen’s number. Their phone was theclassic GPO handset design in a rather putrid shade of green, with a rotarydial in the centre. Almost everyone had these phones when Kent was growing upbut he hadn’t seen one for years. Theirs lived on the window sill next to the telephonedirectory, Yellow Pages and an old-fashioned address and phone book, the sorthe hadn’t seen for years. That would be sure to have Glen’s number in it.
It had a small, plastic slider which moved up and down a rowof letters. Kent lined it up with the letter G and pressed down on the slider. Thetop of the address book pinged up, promptly opening at H. The damned thing hadnever worked properly. He peeled back the H, and there was Glen’s number, rightunderneath Uncle George.
Kent paused before dialling the number to consider what he wasgoing to say. If he was going to get him round to the house it needed to be forsome convincing reason. Glen generally didn’t go out of his way unless therewas something in it for him.
On top of the other things his so-called friend had done overthe years, Kent recalled that he had also freeloaded off him at every opportunity.He had borrowed loads of his stuff with no intention of returning it, not tomention all the drinks he had scrounged off in the pub when they were older. Healways conveniently didn’t have enough money when it was time to get a roundin.
All Kent had to do was make Glen think he was gettingsomething for nothing and he would be round to the house like a shot. Knowingexactly what to do, he picked up the handset. Placing his fingers into theholes on the dial of the old-fashioned phone, he began to dial. It seemed totake forever and he could hear a series of short clicks on the line for each numberas he released the dial. Eventually he heard it ringing at the other end and shortlyafter, Glen’s mother answered.
“Hi, it’s Richard,” he said. “Is Glen there, please?”
When his friend came on the line, he was full of swagger andbravado.
“Alright, Kenty, you tosser. What do you want? Don’t youknow I’m busy getting ready? Big night for me tonight – I’m gonna pop Kay’scherry.”
Any misgivings Kent may have had about springing his laxativetrap evaporated after hearing these words spilling out of Glen’s mouth. He neednot feel guilty at all about teaching this arrogant arsehole a lesson. Why thehell hadn’t he done something about it when he was younger? To his shame, Kentknew he had just let Glen get away with talking to him like this for years. Hehad passed Glen’s contempt off as friendly banter at the time, but he could seehim now for the person he really was.
He should have been stronger and stood up to him then. Hecould quite easily do it now. He was sorely tempted to just tell Glen to fuckoff there and then, but that would mess things up. He needed to bite his tongue,just as he had with Summerfield. Staying true to his character of the time andplaying along would make it all the easier to lure his victim into the trap.
“Ha ha, Glen, you are a card. Listen, I’ve got a plan thatwill make tonight go with even more of a bang than you’re expecting. Want tohear more?”
“Whatever, dude. Let’s hear it.”
Kent found Glen’s use of the word “dude” hilarious. Itsounded so dated. Around that time, Glen had said it all the time, thinking itmade him look cool. It didn’t. Kent suppressed his desire to laugh and began toset the trap.
“Well, you know there’s no booze allowed at this thing?”
“Yeah, they’re going to be searching everyone at the gate,bloody killjoys,” said Glen. “It’s not like we’re under eighteen or anything. Well,I’m not anyway, shame about you.”
“Don’t remind me,” replied Kent, another flood of injusticesrunning back. Since Glen had turned eighteen in September, he had delighted inrubbing Kent’s nose in it whenever they went out. There had been a number of timeswhen he had got served in pubs and Kent hadn’t.
“Anyway,” continued Kent. “I’ve got thirty quid here thatsays we are going to get pissed tonight. As you are so fond of reminding methat you are eighteen and I’m not, I need you to go down the off-licence andget the booze. Come over and I’ll explain how we are going to smuggle it intothe school.”
Then, resorting to language that would appeal to Glen’s baseinstincts, he added, “Think how much quicker Kay will spread her legs with afew vodkas inside her.”
“Sounds like a plan, Kenty,” replied Glen. “Maybe you’re notsuch a loser after all.”
“Right, well get yourself over here pronto and we’ll goshopping,” said Kent.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” replied Glen, before adding.“See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.” He then promptly put the phone down.
What a twat, thought Kent. Did he really think all thesestupid catchphrases made him cool? Why did girls fall for idiots like him? Therewas no justice in the world so it was just as well he had come back here toadminister his own. Glen wouldn’t be getting anywhere near Kay tonight, not ifhe had anything to do with it.
With the first part of the plan accomplished, all Kent had todo now was get the laxatives into something Glen was drinking. Casting his mindback to how Glen normally behaved when coming round to his house, he triggereda memory that could be put to good use. He was pretty sure what Glen would dowhen he arrived and it would make his task a lot easier than first imagined. Hewandered through to the kitchen, packet of laxatives in hand and opened thefridge.
In the door he found a traditional glass milk bottle and a litrecarton of orange juice. Both were approximately half-full. Kent enjoyed the constantlittle moments of nostalgia that leapt out at him when he went back in time andhere was another. Like many
