Page 6 of The Cut

The old blue Ford Fiesta belongs to his dad.

It hasn’t been driven much the last few years because his dad can’t leave the house.

Ben hasn’t passed his test yet, and with his L-plates he’s supposed to drive under supervision.

He sometimes puts an old shop dummy with his nan’s fur coat and hat on in the front seat, to fox the police.

But Barton Mallet is a small village, and no one really cares.

PC Davis has pulled him over a few times to rap his knuckles and tell him to stick to the farm roads.

But Ben is a special case, what with everything going on at home, and Davis has his back.

The car pulls up slowly to the Maddocks’s farm.

It’s about two miles out of the village in the middle of nowhere, on the road to the pretty cottages, past the dog rescue, on the corner of Sienna Lane.

On summer days, when they disappear into the woods on their mountain bikes, the sound of dogs barking melds with the smell of manure from the dairy farm.

The headlights of Ben’s car brush the dirt path and the hedgerows glow with an orange light as he slows down, crunching the gears and jump-stalling to a sudden stop.

Now he’s here, he needs to figure out exactly what to say.

Not to Annie, but to her father, John Maddock.

He switches off the headlights and waits, steaming up the windscreen as he zips up his bomber jacket and tests his breath in the cup of his hand.

Can she see him waiting out here in the dark?

The room upstairs is in shadow, but the shape of the girl is just visible, and as the curtains adjust, light from the landing spills across the wall behind her.

Suddenly the music stops and a peal of laughter rings out, as Cat and Mark get up and move across the snug.

Ben turns to his lifeless passenger. ‘All right, Nan, I’m going in. Wish me luck.’ He opens the car door and crunches down the gravel path towards the house, his hands digging deep into his pockets.

John Maddock doesn’t like him at all; he is well aware of that.

He’s also well aware that his dad is always late paying the Maddocks’s milk bill and has stopped leaving the generous Christmas box that his mum used to give.

Lots of things stop after the mums have gone.

As soon as he taps on the heavy iron knocker of the front door, the dogs will go mad and there’ll be no turning back.

A little tap-tap on the window above him and Ben glances up to see Annie tugging on the old, over-painted sash window.

The wood creaks and shudders as the tiniest crack opens, just enough to slide an arm through. Annie presses her face to the gap.

‘Don’t get stuck.’ Ben stifles a giggle as Annie attempts to wriggle her shoulders through. ‘Just whisper through the gap.’ 31

‘I can’t come out, Ben. Dad won’t let me.’ Annie keeps her voice down.

Ben’s shoulders sink. ‘Not even for half an hour?’

‘I have to study.’

‘How come baby sister’s allowed guests? I mean, I don’t know what they’re getting up to in there, but it doesn’t sound very homeworky.’

‘Orchestra practice. Mum’s really cross with me. I only got Ds for my maths and biology mocks.’

‘Just come down for ten minutes, then … we can listen to the radio in the car.’

‘I can’t believe you drove here, Ben. You know you’re not allowed.’

Ben raises his eyebrows, his hands still buried deep into his pockets, trying to stop the little bulge from growing down there. ‘Please?’

A stark light spills from her bedroom door and the room is suddenly illuminated.

Annie turns sharply, putting her back to the window and sitting on the sill.

Ben watches as she closes the curtain, the slightest shake of her head warning him off.

And then the dogs go crazy. The hall light flicks on and the front door swings open, triggering the outside light.

Mr Maddock stands in slippers, holding the dogs back with his legs, a half-eaten cheese sandwich in his hand.

His rough Derbyshire accent bellows across the silence.

‘Go on, buzz off. She’s not coming out, and if you keep comin’ back, she’ll be grounded.’

‘Sorry, sir. I just wanted to ask her about some biology homework.’ There’s a blend of defiance and sarcasm in Ben’s tone that doesn’t go unnoticed.

‘Biology? I’ll bet you did.’ The remainder of the cheese sandwich is shoved in whole as the massive frame of Farmer John 32 towers in the doorway, thick muscular arms folded tight over a bulging stomach. Catherine and Mark Cherry appear sheepishly in the hallway behind him.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Ben mutters under his breath as he turns away.

‘Oi, clean your mouth out. And how many times do you need to be told about driving without a licence? You’re irresponsible, Ben Knot.’

Ben slams the car door and hits the headlights on to full beam, before crunching the gears into reverse. He’s actually a pretty good driver, truth be told. He’s had to be. His dad needs help and there’s no one else to do the shopping and fetch prescriptions.

At the gate at the end of the lane, instead of heading back on to the main road, Ben turns on to the farm track that runs around the edge of the field.

Through the open window, he inhales the smell of damp leaves and manure from the field: the dank scent of autumn.

The furrows of earth rutted deep by the heavy tractor treads scrape at the loose exhaust pipe of the old Ford Fiesta.

Ben flinches. He can hear his dad berating him for not checking his oil or sorting out the clutch.

The car bumps and grinds slowly around the back of the farmhouse, towards the vast cowshed.

As the car emerges from behind an enormous compost heap, he can see a figure clinging precariously to the drainpipe and dropping gently on to the flat roof of the outhouse.

Annie slides over a wood pile and then crouches down on the ground next to the back door, as a clatter of chopped logs tumble on to the paving.

Ben holds his breath. She is all rebel tonight in her leather bomber jacket.

His heart pounds in his chest as he watches her daredevil escape from the house.

In an instant, she’s free and heading directly towards him across the paddock.

Through the drawn curtains of the living room, Ben can hear the jaunty theme tune to Only Fools and Horses . That’ll buy them half an hour. 33

The passenger door opens and a breathless Annie leans into the car. ‘Oh! Who’s your friend?’ She giggles. The passenger seat appears to be occupied.

‘Decoy! Hold on … I’ll just pop Nan in the back.’ Ben grabs the shop dummy, shoving her roughly into the back seat. Annie slides herself into the car, cool air passing from her mouth to his as he breathes her in. Talcum powder and strawberries.

‘You’re gonna get me into so much trouble.’ She smiles, as Ben leans in for a kiss. She gently turns her cheek to him, blushing. Ben’s apologetic smile turns into a grin as Annie produces a handful of kitchen roll, containing some of Mrs Maddock’s homemade chocolate brownies.

‘Where to then?’ Ben asks as he bites into the crisp top of the chewy chocolate slice.

‘Where do you think?’ Annie glints at him as she pops a corner of brownie into her own mouth, savouring the sweetness.

Ben’s eyes shine in the dark, fizzing with mischief. ‘At this time of night … no way!’

‘Why not?’ Annie fixes him with a defiant glare.

‘I can’t drive this old rust bucket through, it’s too deep. Remember what happened last time?’ Ben chews his lip, considering her proposal.

‘Let’s get stranded together. You can carry me out.’ Annie pulls down the visor and wipes rogue chocolate crumbs from her lip in the mirror, before turning back with a huge conspiratorial grin on her face. ‘I dare you.’

Ben starts the engine and slowly reverses the car, backing into the circle of the pen-fold, and then heads off in the direction of Water Ford Gate, known to the locals as the Water Splash.

‘You’re a bad influence on me, Annabel Maddock.’ 34