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the wall and his bare feet thudding downstairs.
"DAISY'S LOOKING AT ME!"
"JESUS, I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON FIRE."
Pip smiles at that. People always did say it was like they could read each other's
minds. He drags Olly's pillow over his head as well, muffling the rest of the argument,
and doesn't realise he's fallen asleep until he wakes up again closer to noon, to a silent
house and a knifing beam of sunlight cutting through the room where there's a crack
between the curtains. The dull throbbing headache is still there but he doesn't feel tired
any more, he's only going to feel worse lounging round in bed all day. Drinking a
stomachful of icy cold water straight from the bathroom tap helps a bit, and a long cool
shower. When he wipes the misty mirror clean he can see the purple shape of teeth on his
shoulder.
Olly's in the living room when Pip goes downstairs. He's asleep. He always sleeps
in the day, he gets it out the way while the kids are at school so he never has to miss a
breakfast or a school run just because he's tired after working late nights. Joe's sitting in
his playpen, quiet and serious, turning brightly-coloured plushie bricks over in his hands
like he's teaching himself the finer points of architecture.
"Alright, Joe-joe?"
"Alright, Pip-pip." He smiles then. He's got the best smile in the world, and mad
hair that won't do as it's told. "Daddy sleeping."
"Yeah, lazy bastard, ain't he?" He goes over to lift the baby out - he's not a baby
any more, really, he's two and a half and just lately he seems to outgrow all his clothes in
seconds. He's got tiny combat trousers on and a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt, both only a few
weeks old, and they already want replacing.
"It's nearly lunchtime, you hungry?"
"Nana."
"Banana, yeah?"
 "Yeah."
"Alright."
"No, Sian's having him," Olly mumbles sleepily. He sits up, wiping his mouth
where he's dribbled and laughing at himself a bit self-consciously. "I never meant to fall
asleep, sorry."
"It's okay."
"Yeah. Sian's coming round any minute, she's having him today. You gonna be
good for your mum, mate?"
"Yeah," Joe says, but then he throws the soft brick he's still holding right at Olly's
face, so it doesn't look likely. Olly cracks up laughing again and heads into the kitchen to
start packing some stuff in a bag for him, and when he steps around Pip to get to the door
he touches him lightly on the hip. No words, just a casual touch as he's passing. It's better
than words, in a way. Nothing's changed. Nothing's weird or awkward.
Half an hour later, when Joe's gone and Olly's cooking them pasta for lunch while
Pip makes coffee, Pip turns round from putting the milk back in the fridge and says, "You
do know you owe me two now, right?" It's just to see what he says but he doesn't go for
it, he just slaps Pip on the arm with a tomato-saucey spatula and tells him to shut up.
But later on, when important things like food and tidying up and stripping off the
mangled bed are all done and there's nothing left to waste time on except conversation,
Olly flops down on the couch where Pip's flicking through the Sky channels and takes the
remote off him so he can hold his hand. The telly stays there on Kerrang, blaring out
some inane emo rock song while they sit there in silence and Olly traces his finger over
the number 15 tattooed on Pip's wrist.
"You know if you was my boyfriend I'd never walk out on you like all them stupid
women, right?" Pip says quietly.
"Yeah. I know."
"And I wouldn't get pregnant."
"Thank fuck. Your mood swings are bad enough already."
"I'm housetrained. I'm good with kids. I'm very very rich. I swear I'm better in bed
when I ain't hungover. I can do your hair for free. I'm-"
"You had me at 'you can put it in if you want'," Olly interrupts, and Pip creases
laughing and kisses him.
 8.
February 2012
I don t know why I started writing my diary again. I feel well stupid. I think the
whole reason I started it years and years ago when I was like 13 was  cos I always knew I
was gonna be famous and then I'd need notes for my auto biography later on. That s
stupid as well. I dont want to be famous no more, I was kind of famous for a bit but not
for nothing I did, just cos of my Mum and Dad winning the lottery then cos of the kidnap
thing and that ain t the same. I just want people to like me. Haha what a wanker. I feel
stupid writing where nobody gets to see it but then I don t WANT people to see it cos its
stupid. I dont know how people write diary's, I never really worked that one out. Who are
you writing to? I dont know how your supposed to write. Is it like your talking to
someone? Like on LJ you write as if someones reading, even if nobody comments you
know its out there and people can read it so your writing to them.
Maybe I COULD write my auto biography. People who done less in there life
than me get book deals all the time. I know how people like to nosy in to other peoples
lives. I dont know what it'd be like tho. Ok I hope. I hope would come across ok.
Whingey and spoilt and vain and bitter and slutty and foul mouthed and a really fucking
excellent grudge holder and a massive stupid drama queen attention whore yeah, but at
least I'm honest. Like this is me. Warts and all. (Except I aint got no warts.) Please dont
think I'm a twat. I just want people to like me. Is that clingy?? Like I dont mind no more
people dont do a double take in the street cos I never earnt it but I wish I was good
enough at something so I could do something ace and then people would know me
everywhere in the world cos I did good paintings or I was in a band or something but I
aint good enough at NOTHING. I want to be good at something cos I need people to like
me. Aint that vom inducing?? I hate myself a bit but thats what its like. Cos I just think
being ignored and forgot would be the most horrible thing in the world. I just want to
make people happy. I just want people to like me. Is that a fair trade??
I dont know. Like going back and finishing my degree. I can go somewhere with
this I bet, I'm having a wicked time, I like doing it and I like the people on my course and
thats the one thing I'm sure on more than anything else I like doing. Aint arrogant if its [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]