{"id":187,"date":"2019-01-21T09:37:43","date_gmt":"2019-01-21T09:37:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/?p=187"},"modified":"2019-01-21T09:37:43","modified_gmt":"2019-01-21T09:37:43","slug":"hannah-wilkin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/2019\/01\/21\/hannah-wilkin\/","title":{"rendered":"Hannah Wilkin"},"content":{"rendered":"

Part of Your World<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"

Photo by Jon Harley<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I stay at school long enough to sell six packets of fags and get my name checked off on the register.\u00a0Declan finds me when the bell rings and slips me a fiver for his Maths homework. I’ll have to give\u00a0him half back if he\u00a0doesn’t\u00a0get above eighty percent but I’m almost\u00a0certain he’ll get a solid ninety.\u00a0When\u00a0we leave for assembly\u00a0Mrs Ridley\u00a0puts a cross on my uniform card and tells me to take my\u00a0trainers off. She sighs\u00a0when I tell her I haven’t got my school shoes but she doesn’t give me a detention. On the way to the hall\u00a0I\u00a0slide into\u00a0the\u00a0toilets and\u00a0hang about until I can hear the\u00a0first verse\u00a0of ‘Shine Jesus Shine’ belted out from the piano. The corridor is empty.\u00a0I walk\u00a0out through the music department,\u00a0cut\u00a0across main yard, down the steps by the sports\u00a0hall and out across the field.\u00a0I jump\u00a0the railing and drop down on to the link path.\u00a0There is a woman with a pram walking one way and a man with a fat bulldog walking the other. I pull my hood up and walk with my head down and none of us look at each other.<\/p>\n

The woman behind the counter grins at me.<\/p>\n

\u2018What\u2019ll it be this week?\u2019<\/p>\n

I reach in my pocket and pull out the list,<\/p>\n

‘Three\u00a0meat and potato, two cheese and onion, one steak and\u00a0ale\u00a0and\u00a0a sausage roll please’.<\/p>\n

‘How come\u00a0you\u2019re\u00a0always the one to fetch the pies?’<\/p>\n

I shrug.<\/p>\n

‘That’ll be \u00a38.80 please’.<\/p>\n

I shift the carrier bag\u00a0round in my rucksack\u00a0until\u00a0it all fits in.<\/p>\n

\u2018You still enjoying\u00a0college then?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yep\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018It\u2019ll be your last year now won\u2019t\u00a0it? You\u2019ll be looking for a job soon\u00a0eh?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Suppose I\u2019ll\u00a0have to\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018Ah well, could always be a delivery\u00a0man\u00a0couldn\u2019t you?\u2019<\/p>\n

I smile and\u00a0make\u00a0my way to the door.\u00a0I\u2019ll have to remember that next September,\u00a0make up that I’ve started on a construction site or something.\u00a0Somewhere where people would still want pies.<\/p>\n

My phone vibrates in my pocket. It\u2019s a text off Mike from the corner shop: \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Need someone to cover the till tonight u free?<\/p>\n

Sorry mate no can do tonight, cheers for the offer.<\/p>\n

I know it\u2019ll piss him off but what\u2019s the worst he can do, take away my paper round? I\u2019ve got two more on the go and it\u2019d be easy enough to pick up another.\u00a0 I turn my phone on silent but before I shove it in my pocket I stop and look at the home screen. It\u2019s a picture from the summer before last, me and Amy on the beach. Her hair is all over the place and she\u2019s not even looking at the camera but she still looks beautiful in her own way. Twenty four hours until I see her again. Time to get to work.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The new woman on reception buzzes through to her boss to check I\u2019m allowed in.<\/p>\n

\u2018It\u2019ll be\u00a0Maureen\u2019s lad,\u00a0he\u2019ll be here\u00a0for his Duke of Edinburgh volunteering\u2019.<\/p>\n

The receptionist\u00a0hands me the sign in book and holds the button down to let me through the alarmed doors.\u00a0Daisy\u00a0greets me on\u00a0the other side,<\/p>\n

‘Hiya Josh,\u00a0thanks\u00a0for coming in again. I’ve got the chess set out and some craft stuff but otherwise they might just be up for a chat, is that okay?’<\/p>\n

I nod.\u00a0She steers me into the communal area,\u00a0‘Everyone Josh is here, be nice to\u00a0him\u00a0won’t you?’ She winks at them.<\/p>\n

‘If you need anything just give me a shout’.<\/p>\n

I smile and nod.\u00a0The\u00a0door\u00a0barely closes behind her before I’m swamped.<\/p>\n

\u2018Did you manage to get it?’<\/p>\n

‘Where’s my steak and ale?’<\/p>\n

I plough through the sea of walking sticks and\u00a0zimmer\u00a0frames and plonk the carrier bag on the table.<\/p>\n

‘Everyone\u00a0take\u00a0a seat and I’ll bring your orders to you.\u00a0Ailsa here\u2019s your usual\u2019.<\/p>\n

She grasps the pie with both hand and bites straight into it. I hear her dentures clack and the filling spills down her chin. She wipes it off with her hanky and\u00a0looks towards the door.<\/p>\n

The pies are eaten up quickly; eyes closed, flakes of pastry sticking to their jumpers.<\/p>\n

\u2018Evelyn\u00a0I\u2019ve brought your sausage roll\u2019.<\/p>\n

The old woman’s eyes snap open and she\u00a0scowls\u00a0up at me.<\/p>\n

\u2018What\u00a0am\u00a0I\u00a0supposed to do with that?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You ordered it last week\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018I wasn\u2019t even in this place last week!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Well\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I want a scotch egg\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018Well you\u2019ve already given me the money for the-\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You can stick it where the sun doesn’t shine\u2019.<\/p>\n

I move to put it\u00a0back\u00a0in my bag,<\/p>\n

\u2018Actually\u00a0pass it\u00a0here, I\u2019ll trade it off with someone else, see if they\u2019ve got a scotch egg\u2019.<\/p>\n

She snatches it out of my hand\u00a0and stares at me.<\/p>\n

\u2018How old are you?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019m twelve\u2019.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know why I tell her my real age, maybe it\u2019s because I know in five minutes she\u2019ll forget it.<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019re stupidly tall for your age\u2019.<\/p>\n

I move to the door and listen out for footsteps in the corridor.\u00a0A familiar sound creeps closer behind me, a rasping mucous filled cough that builds until it\u2019s hacking and rough, until it sounds like a lung is going to spill out onto the carpet.<\/p>\n

‘Here you are Josh, next week\u2019s orders and-\u2019, the cough pushes it way back up and he pulls his hanky out to rack up something that makes me look away. He takes a moment to get his breath back.<\/p>\n

\u2018And \u00a335 cash for this week’, the old man hands over the envelope; I feel the weight of the notes and coins.<\/p>\n

‘I’ve\u00a0put\u00a0a 50p tip in there as well’.<\/p>\n

\u2018That\u2019s very kind of you Morris, thank you’.<\/p>\n

He leans in closer and I can here the creak of his chest,<\/p>\n

\u2018I was wondering-\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Look I\u2019m sorry Morris but it\u2019s like I said last time. I can\u2019t get you any, I\u2019m just bringing things from the pie shop-\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Just one packet wouldn\u2019t do any harm.\u00a0My grandson says-\u2018<\/p>\n

\u2018It\u2019s different here.\u00a0If you\u2019re really desperate ask him to-\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018They never visit. All\u00a0I\u2019m asking for is one packet of fags\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018No. Either you\u2019d fall asleep with one and burn the whole place down or someone will catch you at it and then\u00a0the whole thing falls apart. I\u2019m sorry but I\u2019m just sticking to pies\u2019.<\/p>\n

He\u00a0whacks\u00a0the radiator\u00a0with his stick and swears.\u00a0I can’t tell if he thinks he\u2019s doing it under his breath or if he wants me to hear him.<\/p>\n

\u2018See you all next week\u2019.<\/p>\n

I hold the door open for a care assistant who is wheeling in the food\u00a0trolley. The stink of over boiled cabbage and pureed mash seeps down the corridor after me.\u00a0After a week of eating that sludge I could probably charge \u00a350 and they\u2019d still pay up. Daisy walks me back down to reception,<\/p>\n

‘They look forward to seeing you every week’.<\/p>\n

I smile and nod at her.\u00a0It\u2019s been a year since Gran died but the system still works.<\/p>\n

Outside I make a quick check just to see that all the money is there. \u00a335.50 exactly. So that plus the money I\u2019ve already earned brings it up to \u00a3110.50. It feels good to see the numbers creep up. During the week I let the cash grow under my bed. I keep it in a shoebox, the one that Amy and I decorated with our handprints. It was supposed to be for keeping memories in. At night I picture the pile of money growing, creeping its way to the top until it pushes the lid off because there\u2019s so much of it. I\u2019ve had nightmares before where someone\u2019s broken in and taken it. Every night I slide it out from under my bed and count up everything inside it. When I put the lid back on I place my hand on top of hers. It\u2019s over two years since we made it. The pink poster paint she used is starting to crack.<\/p>\n

Hannah Wilkin<\/strong> enjoys\u00a0<\/em>writing short stories for adults but is particularly passionate about writing for children. She says: “I usually write for age nine plus but have recently begun exploring picture book writing.”\u00a0 Hannah does not restrict herself to one genre and is currently working on a play set in her hometown.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part of Your World   I stay at school long enough to sell six packets of fags and get my name checked off on the register.\u00a0Declan finds me when the bell rings and slips me a fiver for his Maths … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7691,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"gallery","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-187","post","type-post","status-publish","format-gallery","hentry","category-prose","post_format-post-format-gallery"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/187","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7691"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=187"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/187\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":189,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/187\/revisions\/189"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=187"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=187"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=187"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}