her name is michelle, but she likes to be called shelley. her mother picked the name, because she thought it was exotic ('i wanted to call her MINETTE but bill wouldn't let me') i am supposed to talk to her while her mother, who is named mary but calls herself maria, talks to my adopted mother, margaret. maria roves east langerston and the surrounding area cutting the hair of various women of leisure. those women that are available between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. at 3 p.m. maria has to go home and put bill's dinner on. bill likes his dinner on the table as soon as he returns from the factory. this is my first day off from the chippy for a while, but i have little to do with it. it is taking some courage to face the village again. so i am spending the day in my bedroom, with shelley, who doesn't like me. shelley is wearing a denim jacket and a ck t-shirt. she dropped out of sixth form last year and now accompanies her mother as her 'mobile hair service' services the world. or, at least, that part of yorkshire that is ready for her. shelley is looking through my cds "what's this shit?" (it is teenage fanclub) i think about defending my musical taste, but decide not to waste my time. i look at shelley, and wonder how minette would have turned out. i imagine a waif-like french girl, clutching her satchel and running up the steps of the Sorbonne, beautiful brown hair flowing behind her in the wind. minette, in real life, is a little different. she was in the year below me at school. she tells me she remembers me 'because you do remember all the.........' she looks at herself in my mirror, scraping a lock of newly-permed hair to the back of her head, where it forms a pile and cascades to her shoulders. she looks at my short red hair with distaste "who did that?" "my hair?" she puts a stick of gum in her mouth, not offering me one, and wish i could think of something clever to say to her 'i err.... i...i cut it myself'. the only response is a nod and a barely suppressed smirk. i can feel her eyes on me as i pretend to study my duvet. i think minette wants to tell me something, and i try not to be interested in what it might be. eventually, there is a sharp intake of breath and i decide to get in before she does - "shelley.... do you listen to music much?". she seems taken aback. "have you ever sat in the dark, and just played and played and played a record until you can feel it seeping in through your pores, and mingling with your thoughts and feelings, and becoming part of them" minette looks at me as if i had just asked to have sex with her mother. "no". she shuffles, and turns away. "have you ever shut off your mind completely, and only let the music in? has a record ever become such an important part of you that you change forever?" "are you on drugs? mandy althorpe said you were. she said she saw you in leeds one night and you were on drugs" "shelley... just try something." i don't know why i did it. i wanted her to shut up. i wanted her to understand me. i think i wanted her to like me. i looked through my records, and tried to find something that shelley macdonald wouldn't think was "shit". in the end, i decide to put on something i like instead. i put on "geometrid", because i have been listening to it a lot in recent days. i draw the curtains and turn the speakers toward her. "now sit very still, close your eyes, and empty your mind. think of nothing, and try and imagine the music. try and feel it, as it enters your ear, and follow it through your body, and see where it stops, and tell me how it feels." at this point, i expect her to leave. but she suprises me. perhaps it is because she is interested. she would never do this sort of thing with her real friends. she would never do this in front of anyone whose opinion interested her. she would only do it with someone who she regards as an outsider. and, in this small village, there aren't many of those. i think she wants something exciting to happen, although she may not know it. i switch on the album, setting it to skip certain songs (i don't want her telling people i listen to songs about drinking piss. i have to face them again at some point) and i sit back, with my eyes half shut. i can see minette is concentrating. she is holding her breath, and biting her lower lip. she never smiles, but looks as serious as i have ever seen her. and she is mercifully silent. i am regretting my musical choice. i wish i had picked something less fey. i can't imagine a situation where minette would choose to listen to 'these things'. but i'm amazed to see her fingers starting to twitch, her head to wobble a little, and a smile come to those permapursed lips. her fingers twitch again. she's feeling something. maria's voice floats up the stairs "shelley, time to go" shelley snaps out of her reverie. she doesn't look at me. she picks up her coat, and heads for the door. but then she realises she's forgotten the bombshell "i saw andy the other day down the bull.............. he's gay now" as i write this mail, minette - or shelley as i will try and call her - has just left the house. she came back at half-past seven and sat, watching eastenders with margaret whilst i taped the copy of "geometrid" that she had requested. i asked her to say hello to andy from me, and watched her smile to herself, nurturing her new-found knowledge. i wish i could see her face when she realises stuart david is singing "drink piss to cool down your brain". i wish i knew what she was going to do with that tape eileen _________________________________________________________________ Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. 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