‘Mine and Maurie’s.’ I turned to Maurie. ‘They’re in your dad’s car.’
I have never seen anyone change colour so fast. Maurie’s normally florid complexion turned grey, then white.
‘How did they know we’d gone already?’
I suppose I must have blushed with guilt. ‘Jenny told them.’
Dave pushed himself back in his seat, breathing imprecations.
Luke, who’d been listening in silence, suddenly said, ‘What about my dad?’
I shrugged. ‘She didn’t say anything about him.’ And I saw in his face, just fleetingly, what I’ve always thought was disappointment. I said, ‘They’re only about an hour behind us.’
It was pure panic I saw in Maurie’s eyes. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘We’ve got to get off the A74,’ I said. ‘And stay off it. At least for tonight.’ I looked around, suddenly aware that Jeff wasn’t with us. ‘Where’s Jeff?’
Maurie nodded behind me towards the counter, and I thought I detected a hint of jealousy in his voice.
‘He’s talking to that bloke over there.’
I swivelled in my seat to see Jeff and the Elvis lookalike in animated conversation at the far end of the counter. Some joke passed between them and they both laughed.
I said, ‘We’ve got to get out of here now.’ I stood up and hurried across the café to catch Jeff by the arm. ‘Excuse me.’ I nodded apologetically to Elvis and drew Jeff away. In hushed tones I explained to him why we had to leave.
Jeff’s eyes opened wide. ‘Jobbies! And they’re actually on the road now?’
‘Yes.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘How did they know?’
I could tell this was going to cause me some grief in the hours to come. ‘Long story. But there’s no time to waste. We’re going to have to get off the main road.’
‘Excuse me.’ Elvis leaned into our conversation, and the most unexpectedly soft Irish brogue issued from smiling lips. ‘Couldn’t help overhearing. Jeff here was telling me what you fellas are up to.’
I glared at Jeff, but he was oblivious, and Elvis offered me his hand.
‘I’m Dennis, by the way.’
It was a warm, dry hand that gave mine a firm shake. But there was something about his smile that didn’t quite reach his amber eyes, and I felt an immediate distrust.
‘Sounds like you boys’ll have a bit of explaining to do if the old fellas catch up with you.’
The others had gathered behind me now, and Dennis smiled around the anxious faces.
‘How long behind you are they?’
‘About an hour,’ I said reluctantly.
‘Well, if you’re going off-piste you’ll need a plan.’
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I said, ‘We’ve got good maps.’
‘Excellent.’ Dennis nodded in smiling approval. ‘But a map’s not a plan. Tell you what. I’ve been hanging about here for a while now looking to catch a ride. Figured I wasn’t going to make it home tonight. But if you boys want to give me a lift, I can offer you a bed for the night. Or, at least, a floor.’ He grinned. ‘And your dads’ll never find you.’
‘Where?’ I could tell from Luke’s voice that he was as wary as I was.
‘I’m renting a wee farm worker’s cottage down in the Lake District. Me and the missus. She’s got a job in the local dairy, and I’ve just been up in Glasgow looking for work.’
He looked at his watch, and I saw that the tattoo on his left forearm was a snake curled around a dagger.
‘If we leave now we should reach Penrith before the old fellas catch you, then we’ll be off the main road and they’ll never find you in a million years.’
Jeff had no hesitation. ‘Brilliant, that’s what we’ll do.’
I glanced at Luke, who gave an imperceptible shrug of the shoulders. Dave and Maurie looked uncertain.
I said, ‘Maybe we should talk about this.’
Dennis lit another cigarette. ‘Be my guest.’
‘Just between us,’ I said, and I walked off to the table where we had been seated earlier. The others followed.
‘What’s the problem?’ Jeff jerked his thumb back towards Dennis. ‘That’s a really gen bloke. And we’re not going to get another offer like that tonight.’
‘I don’t like him,’ I said. ‘We can navigate ourselves “off-piste” for tonight.’
‘I’m with Jack,’ Luke said, and we looked at Dave and Maurie.
Their joint indecision was paralysing.
‘This is just rude,’ Jeff said. ‘We’re insulting the bloke now. And we don’t have time to argue about it. It’s my van. I say we go with him.’ He looked at each of us in turn, almost daring us to say no. And when no one came up with a better plan, he turned and waved to Dennis. ‘We’re on.’
Dennis smiled and lifted his bomber jacket. ‘Good call, boys. You’ll not regret it.’
But I had a bad feeling that we might.
II
To my chagrin it was still my fate to sit up on the engine cowling. Maurie had moved into the back to share the settee with Luke and Dave, and had been replaced in the front by the cool Dennis who, as if to underscore his image, chain-smoked an American brand of menthol cigarettes called Kool.
There had been a strange, unspoken shift in the hierarchical structure of our little group. I had been the prime mover in the decision to run away, along with Luke, and up until then had been silently accepted, if not actually acknowledged, as the leader. But now I had been displaced by Dennis. He was three or four years older than us, and beside him we just seemed like the schoolkids we were. And Jeff, the only one of us not still at school, had become his lieutenant. I felt control of our situation slipping away from us, but was powerless to do anything about it.
The A74 took us on a tortuous tour of the southern uplands of Scotland before levelling off into the flood plains of the Solway Firth and the River Esk. I saw a signpost caught fleetingly in our headlights for a place called Metal Bridge, and shortly after that we saw a sign at the side of the road for ENGLAND, and I left Scotland for the first time in my life. Odd how straight away it felt different, as if I had passed into a foreign land. And those differences were immediately apparent in the change from stone-built to brick-built houses and farm buildings. I felt the chill of uncertainty creep over me. I was well out of my comfort zone now.
Carlisle was like a ghost town, alien and strange. Empty streets simmering in darkness beneath feeble street lamps. We stopped at an all-night filling station for petrol, and drove out of town on the A6.
The tension in the van was very nearly tangible. No one actually voiced the thought, but it seemed likely now that Maurie’s dad and mine could not be very far behind. I could see Jeff constantly checking his side mirrors and tensing every time we were overtaken.
The only one of us completely at ease with the situation was Dennis. He lit another Kool as we passed a road sign for Penrith. It was just ten miles away.
‘Won’t be long now,’ he said.
I could hear him grin in the dark, and saw his smoke rings flattening out against the windscreen in the lights of an on-coming vehicle.
And then we were off the A6, heading west towards Keswick on the A594, and it was like a huge weight had lifted off us all. We had made the turn-off before the dads caught up, and now we were home free, as if the invisible umbilical that had somehow kept us attached to everyone and everything we had known since birth had finally, irrevocably, been severed. We were into the uncharted territory of our new lives.
Dave, it turned out, had cans of stout planked in his rucksack. He passed them around, and we smoked our Player’s No. 6 and speculated about how much longer it would take us to get to London, and what we were going to do when we got there.