Free Be Near Me by Andrew O’Hagan Page A

They soon staggered across the road dripping with bottles and handbag straps, their continuous laughter swallowed by the hotel doors, leaving us standing at the edge of the car park around the orange glow of Mark's cigarette.
    Mark had approached me from behind as I stood in the cold. He seemed high on something but just smiled when I asked him what he'd taken. During my time with Mark and Lisa, around the housing estate or at the school, in playgrounds or at church events they had come to in search of trouble, they often smelled of glue and spoke to me as if I were a natural enemy of authority. They spoke of stolen money and air pistols and homemade cider. They went out joyriding at night while pretending to sleep over with friends. Over the months, I began to know worse things about them, how little they cared about life, how dehumanised they could be, yet I know I did nothing to oppose them. I gave in to every aspect of them, every aspect of myself. I watched them as one might watch people in a film, because he was beautiful, because I liked the way they seemed to think of me.
    Late one night, Mark and Lisa appeared at the rectory in the company of a feral-looking boy they called Chubb. They stood in the chapel lane throwing gravel up at the window. I could hear them laughing as I came down the stairs, and when I opened the door, I saw full bottles of milk stood in rows across the path.
    'What's this?' I said.
    'Milk bottles,' said Mark. 'Just me and my homeys. Do you need any milk?'
    'No, I don't. Where are they from?'
    'People's doors,' said Lisa, giggling. 'We raided all the doors for milk and now we don't know what to do with them.'
    'That's childish,' I said.
    'It's funny,' said Mark. He looked defiant. 'It's gonnae be hell for them in the morning wanting their cornflakes. Can you imagine it?'
    'Just about.'
    'Can we come inside?'
    'Certainly not. Take those bottles back where they belong.'
    'No chance,' said Lisa. 'We need to sit down. We're tired.'
    Rather bold in himself, the one called Chubb put his cold hand out for shaking when Mark introduced us.
    'What kind of name is Chubb?' I said.
    Lisa broke the seal on one of the bottles and started pouring milk down the drain at the edge of the path.
    'He's good with locks,' Mark said.
    The new boy wore a grin that showed his sharp little teeth.
    'It's nae bother, Father,' he said. 'Just a wee laugh with the milk bottles and that, but no harm done, know what I mean?'
    'It's theft,' I said. 'You should take them back before people wake up and notice they're missing.'
    'Talk to the hand,' said Lisa.
    The three seemed luminous in the chapel's shadow. When I returned upstairs I could hear their laughter in the distance, then the smashing of bottles over the road where they had stopped at the bus shelter. I changed into my clothes and drove out to find them on the estate, the four of us ending up on the steps of the school playground, just sitting together and smoking, talking about drugs that people used to take in the 1960s, the youngsters boasting about all the things they didn't care about. They expressed their hatred of teachers and their liking of me, drinking milk, and me drinking milk along with them, forgetting the time. In the houses people were sleeping, not missing us, and Mark reached over and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. 'You've got a moustache,' he said.
    They loved to practise driving in my car at an industrial estate situated in some fields next to the dual carriageway. Mark would twiddle through the radio stations until he found one that sounded illegal and black.
    'This tune is butter,' said Mark. 'Eat it up.'
    'I love this one,' said Lisa.
    'Not too loud,' I said.
    'God, I wish we had urselves a bottle of Tanqueray,' said Mark. 'Gin and juice and we'd really get our swerve on.'
    A lot of empty factories up there, places where the young people could shout and their voices would echo from one end of the shed to the other. All the glass was