Touching From a Distance Read Online Free PDF

stars who had died young. Through him I began to learn about James Dean, Jim Morrison and Janis Joplin. Anyone who had been involved in the young, arty medium of any form of showbusiness and found an early grave was of interest to him. When he told me that he had no intention of living beyond his early twenties, I took it with a pinch of salt, assumed itwas a phase and that he would grow out of it. He seemed terribly young to have already made the decision that life was not worth living. I thought that, as he matured, surely life would be so good that he would not want to leave it all behind.
    Gradually we began to see very little of Tony Nuttall. Ian admittedone day that Tony had agreed to let him date me on the condition that he looked after me. Though I felt like a pet with a new owner, my life was more interesting and somewhat more sophisticated with Ian, so I stuck with him.
    Occasionally we put ourselves on the baby-sitting rota and looked after the children who lived in Victoria Park flats while their parents went out. This was by no means a mundane job. Once we cared for two small boys whose parents had recently settled down after working in a circus. There were circus posters on the walls and the children leapt around from one piece of furniture to another, like monkeys who had been let out of their cage. Another time a small girl climbed on to Ian’s knee and asked him if he would be sleeping with her Mummy that night and whether he was her Daddy.
    Ian somehow managed to balance his life between his council-estate friends and his more affluent peers at the King’s School. I also tried to keep hold of my old friends, but I was not as successful, mainly because Ian strongly objected to them. Without me realizing it, he began to take control of my life very early on in our relationship.
    My friend Elaine and I had Saturday jobs on a cheese and bacon stall in the indoor market in Macclesfield town centre. Ian wanted me to walk to his flat every lunch-time so that his mother could make me a sandwich. Instead of speaking up I allowed myself to be the victim of either Doreen’s misplaced kindness or Ian’s determination to keep tabs on me. He always met me and escorted me to and from the stall. Considering the time I spent at the flat, I rarely saw Ian’s sister Carole. She was like Ian in appearance, but was always ready with a shy smile. She had not passed the eleven-plus to go to the local grammar school, so I assumed she was not as academically gifted as Ian. Although she was only about thirteen at the time, I once suggested to Ian that it would be nice when Carole started going out with boys so that we could make up a foursome. Ian replied, ‘My sister’s never going to go out with boys!’
    Ian would often spoil a pleasant evening by having an inexplicable temper tantrum. When half a dozen of us visited a friend’s home, one of us complimented our friend’s father on his house. The embarrassedfather blushed and spluttered a little before saying, in a self-effacing manner, ‘It’s better than living in Moss Side.’ Ian immediately leapt upon his soap box and said, ‘What’s wrong with Moss Side?’ While the poor man struggled to explain himself, Ian accused him of being racist, threw a punch at another guest and ended up crouching on the floor behind the settee. I remember kneeling down and trying to persuade him to come out, but he was as implacable as ever. Most probably it was Oliver Cleaver who eventually coaxed him into going home.
    In the summer of 1973, Oliver’s parents went away on holiday, leaving Oliver to stay at a friend’s house. Oliver let us back into his parents’ house and we had a small but out-of-hand party which came to an abrupt end when Ian smashed his fist through the glass in the front door. No one knew why he was so angry, but the wound could not have been very deep as we were able to walk to casualty.
    *
    Autumn arrived and life was in danger of becoming boring again.