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Ch 1: In Nobody`s Eyes But Mine

by ShayBoston 

Posted: 25 November 2008
Word Count: 1776
Summary: It's been gathering dust for a long time. I only got as far as uploading 6 chapters the first time around. I've written 23 chapters so far and I'm going to start at the beginning again if that's OK. This has had a slight rewrite and has been retitled. I would welcome any comments.


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Content Warning
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.


Sat between maudlin pensioners and three-foot hyperactive nutters in Sainsbury’s Café is how I have come to spend my Saturday afternoons. Alone. While my own child - a veritable social butterfly - is enjoying Dad’s access time with her friends at the Sullivan Street 'Drama Group'. At my expense in more ways than one.

I drain my cup and flinch. Why do pots of tea in supermarket cafés always seem great value when you're at the till? First cup usually tastes OK and so it should. You're in control of your own destiny with that first cup, but by the time you're ready for the second it's that horrible combination of stewed and tepid. You never go out on a high with a pot of supermarket café tea. It always peaks too soon.

I rise from my seat and 'forget' to return Sainsbury's dog-eared copy of The Sun as I haven't read the football pull-out yet. 'See you love', I say with exaggerated cheeriness to the café cashier. She looks straight through me. Perhaps my spontaneous politeness doesn't translate. Or perhaps she recognises sarcasm when she sees it.

I need to get a wriggle on so I exit Sainsbury's, jog past my car and cut through the retail park to the busy street. It's only across the road, but every time I lift a foot off the kerb a car comes haring round the corner; every one a boy racer on his Saturday afternoon burn-up. I’ve almost been parted from my right leg by two Citroen Saxos, a blacked out Golf and one of those silly fucking Subaru Impreza’s with the gold alloys. I’ve just about resigned myself to never getting across this road when I hear a shout and catch sight of something white in the sunlight. Then my face is mashed. And there’s laughter. And I’m wet from cheekbone to man breast. What the fuck was that?

Half my face is numb and it’s not just wet, it’s sticky. I look down and see the remains of the missile, a KFC Pepsi carton. It must have been full and it’s a large one, not your regular size. What kind of dickhead would waste one pound odd on a large drink? Patently one that feels he gets better value for money chucking it at a defenceless pedestrian. The fucker must have asked for extra ice too judging by the weight of it. Talk about fully loaded. Or does force times speed equal extra weightage? It’s got to. I’m sure my face is swelling. Out of my good eye I can see I’m attracting looks of disgust from parents who have safely navigated the road in the opposite direction with their ‘ever so talented’ offspring. They shield their children from me as though I’m aggressor rather than victim.

‘Mr Abbott?’ shouts a voice softly feminine, but not quite angelic. Well, this is one of the grittier parts of Greater Manchester.

‘Yes’, I say, blinking Pepsi out of my eye.

My six-year old daughter waits with her teacher at the ‘Drama Group’ gates looking almost as bewildered as I feel. I can’t move. I can only stand on shaky limbs until my arm is taken by a robust senior citizen in what feels like a cruel role-reversal embarrassment for bunking off bob-a-job week all those years ago.

‘Come on son’ she says dragging me across the road, her free hand ordering traffic to halt.

I reach Katy, still trembling with anger rising. I feel… violated.

If only I’d had a chance to defend myself.

If only the little twats had stopped and asked me if I wanted to ‘make something of it’.

I would have made something of it too. I would have ripped their shitting heads off.
‘Are you crying Daddy?’
‘No, it’s just pop, sweetheart. Come on let’s get you home.’

* * * * * *

We’re sat in the car, Katy and me. I haven’t been able to get a word in edgeways, but that’s normal. What’s less normal is I’m not listening. I’m still seething over the Pepsi incident. I’m even thinking about going back to retrieve the wax carton to see if it’s worth preserving for the DNA it will undoubtedly hold of my assailant. Think about it, saliva on the straw before he decided to hurl it in my direction, fingerprints from the toe-rag’s grubby little mitts, a fibre from his boy racer pal’s motor. Yes, I could have the shyster yet.

‘You’re not listening, are you?’

‘Hmm, course I am, babe. Stop flicking the light on.’

Katy withdraws her arm from the overhead light with a tut. ‘What did I say then?’

‘You were telling me about singing practice.’

‘That was ten minutes ago.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

‘I was saying Patrick Darbyshire was trying to look up Felicia Henderson-Mellor’s skirt again’.

‘Was he? Well maybe FHM should start wearing leggings like you’.
‘FHM?’

‘Felicia what’s-her-face.’

‘Henderson-Mellor. She doesn’t like her name being shortened.’

‘She’ll have to get used to it with a gobful like that. Hey, isn’t there a girl called Henderson-Peters?’

‘No’, sighs Katy. ’That was Felicia. Her Mum lives with another man now’.

Katy falls silent. Its three minutes to six. She knows the drill. I won’t be restarting my engine for another two minutes. Why should I? My access times are twelve till six on alternate Saturday’s and since my bitch of an ex-wife has deliberately stiffed me by enrolling Katy with this song and dance malarkey for precisely half that time I’m taking every second I’m entitled too. In fact the mood I’m in I might push it to five past today, let’s see how she likes being pissed about.

‘Mum’s going to be really cross with you’, Katy comments helpfully, glancing at the dashboard clock.

‘What, for a change?’

I get the look. It’s her mothers look.

‘OK, I quit,’ I say.

‘Hmm, that’s what Gran calls you. A quitter.’

‘Pardon?’

‘She says since you dropped out of University you’ve never seen anything through.’
‘Well, your Gran…’

Katy looks at me expectantly.

… may have a point.’

I turn the ignition key half expecting to have a flat battery, but if a Skoda Octavia can roar then roar it does.

‘Why are you in such a grumpy mood?’

I smile at her as I move through the gears. ‘A multitude of reasons, but none of them caused by you, darling.’
‘Well you shouldn’t be grumpy until you’ve dropped me off then.’

‘You’re right, as usual.’

And she is. I’ll have plenty of time to be miserable later. My plans for the weekend are spookily similar to every weekend for the last four months.

Fuck. All.

Katy gets out of the car a little too eagerly for my liking and is ringing the bell while I am still figuring out how to turn the internal light off.

‘Hi Mum!’

‘Hello gorgeous.’

I turn with my best ‘who me?’ expression, but like most things it’s wasted on the woman.

‘How was Drama Group?’

‘It was great, Mum. I’ve got to learn ‘The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow’ for next week.’

Katy bursts into song, emphasising ‘Tomorrow’ in an American accent.

‘Oh, that’s excellent.’

Then Becky turns to me.

‘What time do you call this?’

I shrug.

‘Seven minutes past.’ .

I shrug again.

‘Why are you late?’

‘The traffic was heavy. What can I say?’

‘Is this right, Katy? Was the road busy coming home?’

‘Er, I didn’t really notice.’
‘She was too busy playing with the overhead light.’

Becky isn’t satisfied, but decides to let it go.

‘OK, darling, you go and get changed.’

‘OK, bye Dad.’

‘See you. Love you.’

She doesn’t stop for a kiss; she’s far too busy.

‘Well I suppose I’d better be making tracks,’ I say to Becky.

‘Did you know you’ve got a big brown stain on your shirt?’

Becky has this in-built skill for making me feel worthless and she takes great pride in demonstrating it. The disgust on her face has my personal esteem plummeting faster than a fat man in a barrel going over Niagara Falls. I look down at my favourite white linen shirt and am reminded of the full enormity of the carbonised horror that befell me.

‘I got a drink chucked at me, Bec.’

By my standards it’s a fairly subtle cry for help, but any hope of a sympathetic response I may have held are instantly extinguished.

‘I think it suits you being able to spend the afternoon in the pub while Katy’s at drama.’

‘The pub? I haven’t been in the pub. I’ve been nursing a pot of tea in Sainsbury’s Caff and the drink was a fast-flying-fast-food Pepsi, chucked with great force and without warning from a moving car as I was attempting to collect our daughter from sodding ‘Drama Group’.

My throat gives way. ‘Can’t you see my eye’s gone puffy?’ I plead pathetically.

I prod below it to emphasise the damage. Not that this does it justice. The injuries stretch beyond surface appearances. It’s also had a deep underlying traumatic effect, exacerbated by the fact the scrotum got away without me getting a look at him or the car.

‘It might be an idea to get on an Anger Management course, Andy.’

‘Yeah? I’ll see if there’s one running simultaneous to Katy’s drama seeing as you’ve got me kicking my heels for three hours every time I’m supposed to have her.’

‘Would you rather she didn’t pursue her dream?’

‘Don’t give me that! And if it is her dream I’m sure it can be accommodated outside of my access hours.’

‘But she’s made friends in that group.’

‘What? A girl who changes surnames every month and an eight year old skirt botherer?’

‘Do you want to tell her she won’t being seeing them again?’

Becky’s face breaks into a look of smug satisfaction. There is no comeback to that. Not that I can think of at the moment anyway so I lower my gaze to her tits, which are looking far perkier than I remember. Her nipples are poking provocatively through her tight green T-shirt and practically begging to be tweaked. Surely she can’t be getting off on this?

Course she can. She loves it.

She picks up on the tit staring and folds her arms across them.

‘Right,’ I say with nothing left to hold my interest, ‘I’ll see you in a fortnight.’

‘Yes, but don’t expect Katy to be ready until seven minutes past.’

The door closes on me with a heavy thud and I flick her the bird just in case she’s looking through the spy hole.







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Comments by other Members



Account Closed at 19:52 on 25 November 2008  Report this post
Hi, I really enjoyed this, it's fun and fast paced. Your writing is very clear.

There was a lot of fun touches, such as,
I’ve almost been parted from my right leg by two Citroen Saxos, a blacked out Golf and one of those silly fucking Subaru Impreza’s with the gold alloys
and
I get the look. It’s her mothers look.


This threw me to start with

"Mr Abbott?’ shouts a voice softly feminine, but not quite angelic. Well, this is one of the grittier parts of Greater Manchester.

‘Yes’, I say, blinking Pepsi out of my eye.
this bit is fine itself but the I was thrown by the introduction of the daughter in the line afterwards - it didn't work quite how I think it was intended because of the adult speaking before and then saying that the daughter was 6. Not sure If I'm explaining myself brilliantly but anyway the rest was great.

Hope you'll post more.

Lady A

manicmuse at 23:20 on 25 November 2008  Report this post
Hiya,
I really liked this. Its great to read about a pissed off male mc! I'm not sure why, but I found the second part (after the text break) so much more fluid and pacy than the first. Either way, I would defintely want to read on. Post more!

F

pachelbel at 08:24 on 26 November 2008  Report this post
I would definitely buy this, read it and love it. It reminds me (not in a plagiarist sense) of Christopher Brook mayer (sp?): it's the pace and the humour. The dialogue is fantastic.

I actually think it's one of the best things that's been posted on here in a very long time (and the standard's never low) and urge you to get it out there. Perhaps you could make something of the fact it's man-lit or whatever in your submissions. Who's Christopher Brookmayer's agent? I'd start with them.

A x

KisaOBrien at 08:49 on 26 November 2008  Report this post
Hi Shay,

In a word: engaging. By the end of this I was hooked and ready to read more. There were lots of lines I loved, such as

At my expense in more ways than one.

‘Yes’, I say, blinking Pepsi out of my eye.

I get the look. It’s her mothers look.

I turn with my best ‘who me?’ expression, but like most things it’s wasted on the woman.


You do a great job revealing your MC and the interpersonal relationships without laboriously spelling it out, as with these lines:

What’s less normal is I’m not listening.

‘Well, your Gran…’

Katy looks at me expectantly.

… may have a point.’

I turn with my best ‘who me?’ expression, but like most things it’s wasted on the woman.

The door closes on me with a heavy thud and I flick her the bird just in case she’s looking through the spy hole.


The tea thing in the second paragraph didn't do much for me, but then I'm not a tea drinker . I think it might work just fine later on, but it came so early and didn't tell me any more about the MC or the situation. If you leave it here, maybe just do the first two sentences and cut the rest? Though I think even better is to put it in a subsequent chapter, on another Saturday when he's waiting for his daughter. Then, I think, it will highlight his 'thumb-twiddling' as he waits, bored, for his daughter to get out of drama group.

I also wasn't really crazy about the "begging to be tweaked" line, but then this story's from the male POV, so I guess I don't have to be . As a chick, however, I think that section works just as well if you end that sentence at "tight green T-shirt".

I know it's an early draft, so this isn't terribly important at this stage, but I was distracted by the lack of punctuation and other small grammatical oddities here and there. Not enough to prevent me enjoying this, though!

I think you've got an easy, flowing style and a very likeable MC here. I look forward to reading more!

Regards,

Kisa

Deborah at 17:06 on 26 November 2008  Report this post
FABULOUS STUFF! Seriously - this should be a book and it should already be in Waterstones so that I can put it on my Christmas wish list - THIS YEAR please!!
Seriously (and I was) this is a pure belter of a read and if it's not snapped up sooner than immediately by agents and publishers alike then... well I shall loose the will, frankly.
I love the voice - I love the tone, I love the blatant blokey-ness of the whole thing - can't pick out anything I loved because I loved it all and I have to read some more!!
I don't want to try and compare because I do read a lot of lad-lit - (only the good ones, mind) but if I had to, I'd say you've definitely got a touch of the Nick Hornby's with a smattering of Matt Beaumont's about your style - but it's fresh, it's fun, it's relevant and is fantabulous stuff!!!
*I hate you*
Debs
p.s. Is it right to get the assumption that he's a little on the large side (the man boobs ref?)

First para and last line are priceless, BTW.
MORE!

ShayBoston at 08:39 on 27 November 2008  Report this post
Hi Lady A,

Thanks for reading and commenting. You're right about the introduction of Katy after that line. I will change it to introduce the teacher first so it flows better. I'm glad you like it and will post chapter 2 later today.

Thanks,
Shay

ShayBoston at 08:42 on 27 November 2008  Report this post
Hi F,

Glad you like it too! I was unsure what a female readership would think of it, but so far so good! I know what you mean about the difference in pace. He has become a bit of a loner so there are ponderous, reflective sections, which I suppose do slow the pace, but I have been cutting these back.

Thanks again for reading.
Shay

ShayBoston at 08:45 on 27 November 2008  Report this post
Hi Pachelbel,

Nice name by the way. Thanks for your positive comments. I'm flattered by your comparison to a very good writer! I just hope I can live up to it with the following chapters! It's nice to know I'll sell at least one copy if I ever get a deal!

Cheers,
Shay

ShayBoston at 08:49 on 27 November 2008  Report this post
Hi Kisa,

I really appreciate your detailed critique and I'm encouraged that you find the MC likeable at this early stage as I have been concerned that he would be more of a grower being the world weary, disillusioned type (Andy, not me).

Great to hear that you want to read on.

Thanks,
Shay

ShayBoston at 08:56 on 27 November 2008  Report this post
Hi Deborah,

What can I say? I'm bowled over by your enthusiastic response and all the good things everyone has had to say. I'm flattered by the comparisons, especially Matt Beaumont who I do like a lot. Oh, how I wish you were an agent / publisher!!

Unfortunately it won't be in Waterstone's this Christmas, maybe next year (finger's crossed)! I can recommend a friend's book though (which I, ahem, have an acknowledgment in). It's The Sleepwalker's Introduction To Flight by Sion Scott-Wilson.

Better than waiting till Christmas though, I can post 2-3 chapters a week starting now!!

Thanks again. I hope you read on and that I can maintain the standard.

Mark

Gavaghan at 20:06 on 03 December 2008  Report this post
Mark,

I loved reading this, it's an effortless read and your MC's bitter wit had my smile increasing. Effortless never suggested unintelligent, and there was enough fight in Andy for him not to seem pathetic. Becky was a dream of an ex-wife and Katy perky without being irritating.

Sat between maudlin pensioners and three-foot hyperactive nutters in Sainsbury’s Café is how I have come to spend my Saturday afternoons


It's a great opening line, but because it is an opening line, can I be be nitpicking and say I found it a tad long, clumsy. How about '... in Sainsbury's Cafe is how I now spend my Saturday afternoons'?

The dialogue is excellent, natural and witty - I loved the conversation with Becky, but it seemed a touch over-long. Could you tighten it a bit?

The pace was great, a good balance of dialogue to narrative, and I can't think of anything bad to say about this. I can only repeat that I loved it, and now I'm going to read Chapter 2.

K

Michele at 22:35 on 04 December 2008  Report this post
Mark,
First welcome to the group and sorry that it has taken me so long to read and crit.
I definitely love this MC and his voice- he's funny, vulnerable, sensitive but with a little bravado and there are a lot of cracking good lines in these 3 postings ( I have managed to read all three):
I’ve almost been parted from my right leg by two Citroen Saxos

What kind of dickhead would waste one pound odd on a large drink?

The fucker must have asked for extra ice too judging by the weight of it. Talk about fully loaded. Or does force times speed equal extra weightage? It’s got to.

Hilarious:
I can only stand on shaky limbs until my arm is taken by a robust senior citizen in what feels like a cruel role-reversal embarrassment for bunking off bob-a-job week all those years ago.

‘Come on son’ she says dragging me across the road, her free hand ordering traffic to halt.


Yeah!-
The door closes on me with a heavy thud and I flick her the bird just in case she’s looking through the spy hole


Let's hear it for man lit.

Michele

Emily Lockhart at 19:42 on 07 December 2008  Report this post
Hi, I'm new to this site and have to say that I'm very impressed by your first chapter - I'm going to read the rest now! You're writing style is pacy, smart and full of punch. I didn't expect to like Andy so much, but he's one of those smart-ass kinda guys looking for meaning his life that just creeps up on you and I always have a soft spot for them! I have to agree with one of the other girls who didn't particularly like your line about nipples waiting to be tweaked, but then again, it's probably more realistic that way - alot of my guy friends think and say things like that and sometimes take their 'humour' a little too far, so I'm not surprised your MC is thinking like that, even about his bitch of an ex-wife! Will let you know what I think of the rest for whatever my opinion is worth. I'm kinda in awe of you all and my own work feels small in comparison! best of luck! Emily

ShayBoston at 09:10 on 08 December 2008  Report this post
Hi Gavaghan & Michele,

I missed your comments on Ch1 (that will teach me to tick email notifications in future ). Thanks for everything you've said and reading of course!

Mark

ShayBoston at 09:12 on 08 December 2008  Report this post
Hi Emily and welcome to WW!

I am sure you'll convert to full membership because this is the best site of it's kind on the web.

Thanks for reading and your kind comments. There's no need to be in awe of anyone on here. You'll get lots of good, constructive feedback. Thanks again for yours!

Mark


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