I smoke cigarettes. I don’t “pinch”. Plebs “pinch”. I “liberate”.’
‘Then why did you “liberate” the—’ (now I couldn’t say ‘cigarettes’).
‘Ye-es?’ prompted Hugo.
‘The Lambert Butlers.’
‘If you mean “Why did you liberate the cigarettes?” it’s because smoking is a simple pleasure, with no proven side effects except lung cancer and heart disease. I intend to be long dead by then. If you mean “Why choose Lambert Butlers in particular?” it’s because I wouldn’t be seen homeless smoking anything else, except for Passing Cloud. Which that tragic old dipso doesn’t stock in his village grocery, of course.’
I still didn’t get it. ‘Haven’t you got enough money to buy them?’
This amused my cousin. ‘Do I look like I haven’t got enough money?’
‘But why take the risk?’
‘Ah, the liberated cigarette is the sweetest.’
Now I knew how Aunt Alice felt in the garage earlier. ‘But why’d you take the Fisherman’s Friends and the Crème Eggs?’
‘The Fisherman’s Friends are insurance against Mr Tobacco Breath. The Crème Eggs were insurance against you.’
‘Insurance against me?’
‘You’ll hardly grass on me if you also had liberated contraband on you, would you?’
An oil tanker inched past, puking out fumes.
‘I didn’t grass you off when you made Nigel cry earlier, did I?’
‘Made Nigel cry? Who made Nigel cry?’
Then I noticed Kate Alfrick’s house, or rather a silver MG parked round the side. This guy who definitely wasn’t Julia opened the front door for Kate as she walked up her drive, carrying her wine. The upstairs curtains twitched. ‘Hey, look—’
‘Let’s cross.’ Hugo edged towards an oncoming gap. ‘Hey, look what?’
We dashed across the road, to the path to the lake in the woods.
‘Nothing.’
‘No no no no no, you’re holding it like a Hollywood Nazi. Relax! Just hold it like it’s a fountain pen. There. Now, let there be light…’ My cousin reached inside his jacket. ‘Of course, it takes a lighter to impress the quality quim, but lighters do give the game away if found in your blazer pocket by prying Nigels. So Swan Vestas will have to do for this afternoon’s lesson.’
The lake was nervous with riplets and counter-riplets.
‘I didn’t see you liberate those at Mr Rhydd’s.’
‘I took them from that grebo in the pub who called me “mate”.’
‘You pinched Grant Burch’s matches?’
‘Don’t look so appalled. Why would “Grant Burch” suspect me? I’d turned down his mucky cigarette. Yet another perfect crime.’
Hugo lit a match, cupped it and leant towards me.
A sudden jostle of wind snatched the Lambert Butler from my fingers. It fell between the slats of the bench. ‘Oh, bum,’ I said, bending down to retrieve it. ‘Soz.’
‘Take a new one and don’t say “soz”. I’ll have to donate the surplus tobacco to the local wildlife, anyway.’ My cousin held out the pack of Lambert Butlers. ‘The wise dealer never risks getting caught in possession.’
I looked at the offered packet. ‘Hugo, I’m grateful to you for…y’know, showing me, and everything, but, to be honest, I’m not sure if—’
‘Jace!’ Hugo did a jokey-amazed face. ‘Don’t say you’re backing out now? I thought we’d decided to strip you of this shameful virginity of yours?’
‘Yeah…but maybe…not today.’
Blind boars of wind crashed through the anxious woods.
‘“Not today”, huh?’
I nodded, worried he’d be pissed off.
‘Your choice, Jace.’ Hugo pulled the gentlest face. ‘I mean, we’re friends, aren’t we? I’d hardly twist your arm into doing something against your will.’
‘Thanks.’ I felt stupid with gratitude.
‘But,’ Hugo lit his own cigarette, ‘it’s my duty to point out, this isn’t just about smoking a humble cancer stick.’
‘How do you mean?’
Hugo grimaced in a Should I or shouldn’t I? quandary.
‘Go on. Say it.’
‘You need to hear some hard truths, cousin,’ he took a deep drag, ‘but first I have to know you know I’m telling you them for your own good.’
‘Okay. I’ (Hangman gripped ‘know’) ‘understand.’
‘Promise me?’
‘Promise.’
The green or grey of Hugo’s eyes depends on the weather. ‘This “not today” attitude of yours is a cancer. Cancer of the character. It stunts your growth. Other kids sense your not-todayness, and despise you for it. “Not-today” is why those plebs in the Black Swan make you nervous. “Not today” – I would bet – is at the root of that speech defect of yours.’ (A shame-bomb blew my head off.) ‘“Not today” condemns you to be the lapdog of authority, any bully, any shitehawk. They sense you won’t stand up to them. Not today, not ever. “Not today” is the blind slave of every petty rule. Even the rule that says’ (Hugo did this bleaty voice) ‘“No, smoking is BAD! Don’t