Thirteen

 

September 1987

 

The lift doors slid open, sending a shaft of light into the tiny, steel compartment. Laurel took a quiet gulp of air and stepped out onto the landing. Like always, she was relieved that they hadn’t plummeted back down to the bottom or, even worse, got stuck. She hitched the handles of the Safeway bags further up onto her wrists to stop them from digging into her skin.

‘See?’ Nico grinned, turning to look at her. ‘Told you you’d soon get used to it.’

He must have mistaken her quietness as they’d ratcheted up eleven floors for confidence, because he winked knowingly. Despite her insides trembling, Laurel still managed a small laugh as she followed him down the landing. It was a stretch to say she was getting used to it. She’d never been keen on small spaces and everything about that lift, from the flickering off-white light and graffiti-scrawled steel walls to the musky, stale air made her nerves bolt.

She followed Nico as he sauntered ahead of her along the landing. Music pounded from behind number fifty-five, and the mouth-watering scent of spices cooking trickled from the kitchen window of number fifty-six. Laurel picked over a tricycle as they continued down the narrow landing. Brixton couldn’t be any further away from the suburbia she’d grown up in. Her quiet little cul-de-sac had been replaced by a thirteen floor council block and instead of green fields behind her house, she was surrounded by buildings in varying shades of brown or grey. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and instead of falling asleep to silence, sirens were now her very own, personal lullaby. A shout blasted through the air and Laurel looked over the balcony. Three boys ran down the courtyard so fast that they looked like they were being chased. They probably were. She barely raised her eyebrows. She was quickly getting used to the place she now called home. It had life, culture and vibrancy, with drama and tension so tight she could feel it in the air.

She remembered watching the news about the riots two years ago. The pictures of burnt out cars, riot police and Molotov cocktails looping through the air had been shocking. And now she was living here, in a place where men with thick dreadlocks swigged from bottles of Dragon Stout, where the children had intricately braided hair and her neighbours’ flats got raided. And the most surprising part of it all, was that it wasn’t a scary place to live. In fact, it was the opposite. Most people she’d met so far were friendly and welcoming. She’d already babysat for one neighbour and been invited to dinner at another a few doors down with Nico. They’d been treated to a full Jamaican spread, with spicy chicken, curried goat, rice cooked with kidney beans and a surprisingly tasty drink of Guinness mixed with milk. She’d loved it so much they’d given her some to take home, and had taken to dropping round leftovers whenever they cooked too much. Brixton had so much more of a feeling of community than back home ever did.

‘Home, sweet home,’ Nico said, dropping the bags as soon as they stepped inside the flat. ‘Can I leave you to put this stuff away while I nip up to Hassan’s?’

Laurel tried not to let her shoulders drop as she rubbed the tender skin where the plastic bags had dug in. Hassan was a friend of his who, Nico said, was his facilitator. She pictured him as some kind of human Argos shop. All she really knew about him, was that his services weren’t free and whenever Nico disappeared upstairs to do whatever it was he did up there, it usually meant he’d be gone for a while.

‘Sure, no problem,’ she replied, masking her disappointment with a smile.

She’d hoped that they’d watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off after dinner. It had to be taken back to the video shop tomorrow, but now he’d be going to Hassan’s, they probably wouldn’t have the time.

Nico swept her up in his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth once, twice and a third time. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she joked, rolling her eyes as he put her back down.

He kissed her again and left her to unpack the shopping. She unloaded the bags, putting boxes of Findus Lean Cuisine in the freezer, packets of Wagon Wheels, Pop Tarts and Party Rings in the cupboard and emptying a multipack of crisps into a plastic bag hanging on the back of the kitchen door. It was the shopping haul of dreams, full of convenient, fast food that satisfied both her sweet tooth and Nico’s salty one. Laurel took a small bowl from the cupboard and filled it with apples. She’d forced herself to pick them up, hoping they’d counteract the spots on her face that had broken out since moving to London. The fruit bowl looked perfect in the middle of the small kitchen table. It was a little ironic that after hating her mum’s list of chores, she’d started to enjoy this new domesticity. She’d even sprinkled Shake ‘n’ Vac over the carpet last week.

Nico’s flat was small. It had a patch of discoloured ceiling from an old leak and mould in the bathroom. The toilet seat was constantly cold and the walls were so thin, she could hear the neighbours’ sneeze. Laurel leaned on the edge of the sink and looked out of the window to the block opposite. She remembered imagining how Nico’s flat might have been when he’d asked her to move here with him and almost laughed at herself. She’d pictured a modern apartment on the Thames, with satin sheets and state of the art gadgets. But even though it had turned out to be a slightly damp, cramped one-bedroom flat on an estate in Brixton instead, it was real, and being here inspired her every day. She’d thought she loved photography before but now she was obsessed with it. In an area where so many people struggled to make a living and put food on the table, it felt like there was an unlimited amount of stories to be told. Life was, as her college lecturer had said, a matter of perspective. From where she was looking, it was pretty damned good.

Laurel gathered up the empty plastic bags and squashed them into the gap between the fridge and a cupboard as the front door opened and Nico reappeared.

‘That was quick,’ she said as he closed the door behind him.

‘We’ve got that film to watch, don’t we? Ferris Bueller’s whatsit.’

Laurel grinned. The glimpse of Nico’s drive and work ethic she’d seen before had been just a tiny fraction of the whole. It was staggering to see it for real. He woke early every day, without an alarm and even after a late night. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of energy and was always on the hunt for something new. He always carried a notepad with him and would often grab it in the middle of conversation to scribble down some thought or idea. But, by far, the most impressive thing about him was his dedication and commitment. When Nico said it was work time, that was exactly what he meant. Which was why she was flooded with happiness right now. Cutting time at Hassan’s short was a big deal.

‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked.

Laurel opened the freezer door and looked at the stack of ready meals. ‘What about glazed chicken, veg and rice? We can have angel cake for dessert.’

‘I love angel cake.’ Nico sidled up behind her and closed the freezer door with one hand. With the other, he held a box up in front of her face. ‘For you.’

She turned to face him and grinned. ‘What is it?’

‘Open it and find out.’

He leaned against a worktop and his face was silhouetted against the early evening light outside. It would’ve made a great photograph but she knew by now that it would never be able to portray everything she loved about him. He always seemed to catch her off guard and make her heart flutter, just like he had from the very start.

Laurel put the box on the kitchen table before lifting the flap. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head as she looked inside.

‘No way!’ She looked at Nico who was grinning back at her.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Are you kidding? It’s beautiful.’ She carefully lifted the camera out and held it in her hands.

Nico laughed. ‘You must be the only person I know who’d describe a camera as beautiful. I’m glad it makes you happy.’

Laurel shook her head, stunned as she ran her fingers across the textured steel under her hands. ‘But…I mean, it’s brand new. It must’ve cost a fortune.’

Her lecturer had a Canon AE-1 too, and she knew that Nico would have struggled to find one for under three hundred pounds.

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said. ‘You need a decent camera and I need good photos of my cars. It’ll pay for itself.’

Her lecturer had set a new project just yesterday. She could use her new camera to do it. The weight of it was perfect, and it fit in her hands as if it had been made for her.

Laurel looked at Nico again, her heart swelling so much that she thought it might burst right through her chest with happiness. She had so much love for this surprising, thoughtful man. She’d thought the way he’d asked her to move to London with him had been crazy but now she knew it had been love. Plain and simple. And wasn’t love a kind of craziness? It was like a holiday from a dull and boring world, and she never wanted to go back.

 

Later that evening after dinner but before the film and angel cake, Laurel curled up on the sofa and picked up the phone. So far, she’d only called home twice, the first time to let her parents know that they’d arrived safely and the second to let them know she’d started her course.

‘Hi, George, it’s me,’ Laurel said, smiling at the sound of her brother’s voice on the other end.

‘Lorie, hey. What’s up? How are you? What’s going on? We haven’t heard from you in ages.’

Laurel laughed. ‘I’m great. We were just about to watch a film and I thought I’d give you guys a call first.’

‘Aw, missing us already?’

‘Hardly,’ she snorted, but it wasn’t exactly true.

Being in London with Nico was an adventure, a dream come true. She was loving every moment of it. But she really missed having her brother around. She even missed the way he used to boss her around all the time. She pictured him sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, next to the waist high black corner unit where the phone lived. In her mind’s eye, Laurel saw the spider plant that hung from the corner of the ceiling above with its long tendrils reaching for the floor.

‘How are Mum and Dad?’ she asked.

‘They’re alright, they’ve gone out.’

‘Really?’ Laurel pulled a face. ‘But it’s Wednesday. Wednesday nights are Brookside nights.’

‘Not anymore. They’ve gone out the last two weeks, to some kind of dance class. Tango, I think.’

Laurel shook her head, unable to picture her mum and dad doing the tango. It wasn’t that they didn’t do anything fun - they’d been going out on Friday nights for years - she just hadn’t imagined that they’d start going out in the middle of the week too.

‘Wow,’ she said.

George laughed. ‘I know. How’s it going down in London, then?’

‘Really good, George. Really. I mean, London is just…’ Laurel paused, trying to find a word that encapsulated everything she thought and felt about the city. ‘Well, it’s amazing. And school is ace. I’ve learned so much already and I can’t believe there’s still a whole year left to go. Oh, and Nico bought me a new camera today, a Canon AE-1, which is really silly because it’s so expensive, but he says I need it for school and for work, so…’

George laughed, interrupting her flow.

‘What?’ she asked, frowning at his laughter.

‘Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you this excited before.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt this excited before. Honestly, George, things are so good it’s almost too good to be true.’

She thought back to last weekend, when Nico had taken her for a drink at a pub right on the Thames. She’d known then that she’d really arrived. She wasn’t stuck in a boring suburban life in the back end of nowhere anymore. The sun had bounced off the river beside them and they’d watched the boats go up and down. For the first time in her life, she’d felt free and on the verge of something amazing. It had been a day that was nothing short of perfect and she wished her brother had been there to share it.

‘How’s Nico?’ George asked. ‘Still being a dreamboat?’

‘Yes.’ Laurel grinned. ‘He’s great. His business is doing well and he’s treating me like a princess.’

‘That’s nice.’

Laurel tried to imagine that he’d said it in a way that sounded like he really meant it. Despite saying he was happy for them, Laurel suspected that he still didn’t think moving away with him was the wisest of choices.

‘I miss you,’ she said.

‘In the middle of all that amazingness, you miss me? Your annoying older brother?’

Laurel nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat. ‘You’d love it here.’

‘Maybe I’ll come for a visit soon.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

Just the thought of him being there pushed the lump away. As great as it was meeting new people, she missed the ones who knew her best and intended to call Kim as soon as she got off the phone with George.

‘Mum and Dad might try to tag along though,’ he warned. ‘I’m serious. They’ve been talking about it non-stop and bragging about you to everyone.’

‘What do you mean, bragging?’ she asked with a laugh. ‘They were dead set against me coming.’

‘Well now that you’re there, it’s a different story. You’re the star daughter who’s moved to the Big City to study photography. Makes me think I should do the same instead of letting you get all the credit.’

Laurel smiled. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Her parents had tried to talk her out of moving, telling her she’d regret it, that she was too young to know what she really wanted, or what was best. But now it sounded like they were almost proud of her, even if they hadn’t told her so themselves. Maybe it was just another sign that she’d made the right decision after all.