Let It Be

Fast Car

September  1987

Alison sat in the back seat wordlessly as she watched the bright blue skies of London turning an increasingly moody and gloomy grey as they drove north. Alison stared at a rain drop rolling down the window. What a miserable, grey place. Everything looked grey and brown compared to the brightly coloured houses of Notting Hill they'd just left behind. Alison fogged up the glass with her breath and drew a love heart with her finger.

She glanced at the back of her father's silver head. Even from the back his expression was stern somehow. She still wasn't entirely sure what her father did. Some well paid financial, government job that meant lots of moving, lots of Grammar School education paid in full and in advance, lots of missed birthdays and fresh packages of expensive things for her to wear.

Her mother was asleep behind her Armani shades. She was all too happy to accept the upheaval in her life for the nice things it awarded her.

Alison wanted for nothing but neither of them were actually interested in her. Too busy in their own lives to take notice of her. They asked the polite questions parents had to ask to seem interested in their kids but neither truly was. She talked and they heard her bit no one listened. "That's nice darling." Nothing deeper.

It was lonely. No one wanted to be friends with the new girl and she moved so much she never stopped being the new girl. Here she was in her last year of school starting all over again. In Manchester. Poky, red brick council houses squashed together. Shirtless, grubby children riding their bikes and kicking footballs through the puddles.

"I thought they tore down all this slum housing and regenerated it all?" Alison's mum asked nervously as she yawned awake.

"They did in the estate we're in. People refused in this part."

Her mum frowned.

"Why? They're living in squalor? Eyesore is what it is. Should have torn it all down a decade ago when Margaret Thatcher said to."

Alison looked at all the kids and teenagers in the street. They looked happy. The street was bustling and alive with chaos and colour. She was mesmerised drinking it all in. Now Alison's eyes had adjusted she didn't think it was an "eyesore" as her mother had called it at all. It was oddly beautiful in a strange way that scared her slightly. Everything was loud and brash and messy and finite somehow.

Alison gasped as her father slammed on the brakes suddenly. A boy on his bike had just cut straight across the road. He pulled on his brakes with a screech. He stared brazenly unphased through the windscreen not intimidated at all. Their shiny Jaguar stood out not only for being clean and a high end car but it was one of the only cars on the whole street. Alison held his gaze. He was looking right at her. His mouth and chin were partially obscured by his rain jacket hood. She could only really see his eyes. His eyes were an unwavering light blue surrounded by thick lashes and heavy brows. He didn't look away and neither did Alison.

Her father beeped his horn breaking the moment.

"Bloody hell!" Her father exclaimed.

The boy clapped his hand on the crease of his elbow and stuck the vicky up in the classic "up yours" gesture.

"Fuck off twat." He shouted in a harsh Mancunian twang before pedalling away at high speed.

Alison's eyes widened as she watched him until he was out of sight. He looked back and Alison watched him out of the rear window.

"Charming." Tutted her father in deep frustration.

"Alison don't stare darling. Giving him exactly what he wants. Attention."