by Alex Wheatle
She made me feel self-conscious. I took out my mobile although I didn’t know what to do with it. “I wanna coffee,” I replied. “Four sugars.”
“Three sugars,” cut in Louise. “Remember we made a deal?”
“But you didn’t give up the—”
“Not now,” Louise snipped my flow.
I pulled a screw you face.
“Come on then, Naomi,” said Louise. “Let’s get inside so Colleen can close the door. It’s getting a bit nippy.”
It was cold. I wanted to brag off my Grime Therapy T-shirt but I had to wear a hoodie over it.
I entered the hallway. I spotted two kids parked on the third stair. The younger one, a boy, giggled. He must’ve been Pablo. His name sounded like something you do with balloons. The older girl had her face between her hands. She must’ve been Sharyna. Pretty. She scoped my every move. I took in my surroundings. It wasn’t like my mum’s place. The amber-colored paint on the walls looked as if it had been rolled on just days ago. The hallway was grimeless and I could sniff floor polish. I didn’t recognize the black man in a framed picture with cheeks the size of melons. They needed another photograph to fit in his stretched trombone.
At the end of the hallway was the kitchen. A black man sat at the kitchen table. His shoulders were IMAX-screen broad. A tiger tattoo manned-up his forearm. I guessed he was Tony. Colleen invited Louise and me to park our butts. Tony stood up and smiled at me. One gold tooth. “Hi, my name is Tony,” he said. He reached out his hand. I looked at it like it was an escaped anaconda. My nerves spat like sausages on a too-high gas ring. I looked at his plate of dinner. I couldn’t recognize the food. Then I checked something on my phone.
Colleen reached for a biscuit tin on top of a cupboard. She took off the lid. “Anyone want a nibble?” she asked.
Louise accepted two custard creams.
“No chocolate ones?” I asked.
“Sorry, darling,” replied Colleen. “I’ll make sure I get some tomorrow.”
From a leather case, Louise took out my file. A strained elastic band held the flimsy folder and untold papers together. She slid it over to Tony, who ignored it, took a sip from his fruit drink, and introduced himself again. “Just call me Tone.”
I didn’t know what to say. Monkey on a skateboard. This is really happening. Colleen sat beside Tony. “And I’m Colleen,” she smiled. “Colleen Golding. We’re glad to have you with us.”
The Holmans said the same shit.
I glanced briefly at Colleen and then concentrated on my phone. I tried to focus on a game but it wasn’t happening.
“Sharyna! Pablo!” Colleen called out.
Pablo hot-stepped in first. He was still giggling. Then Sharyna entered the kitchen as if the world’s paparazzi were waiting for her. All nervous smiles and sideways glances. She had her arms behind her back and her chin was held high. “Hi, Naomi,” she greeted in a grown-up voice.
I busted out a smile. I loved her long braids. “You know my name,” I said. “You all right? Top ratings for your plaits.”
“Thanks,” Sharyna replied.
I think she blushed but I couldn’t quite tell.
“That’s Sharyna for you,” laughed Tony.
Louise chuckled and took another custard cream. I scoped the creases around her eyes. Some of the other kids on her files had obviously stressed her out till her balloon was about to pop.
Colleen offered me my coffee. She laughed nervously. “Your coffee all right, darling?”
I sampled it. It could’ve done with more sweetness.
“It’ll pass,” I said. “Could’ve done with a chocolate biscuit to go with it though.”
* * *
As the grown-ups chatted, sunk more biscuits, and scanned my file, I allowed Pablo and Sharyna to check out my phone. Sharyna and Pablo were then called to wash the dishes. When Pablo had dried the last one, Colleen turned to me. “Are we ready for the tour?”
A tour? The house is pretty but it’s not Buckingham Palace.
“S’pose so,” I said.
“Follow me then,” said Tony, carrying my bags.
Leaving Louise and Colleen in the kitchen, Tony led me up the stairs, followed by Sharyna and Pablo, to my room. I held on to my meerkat. Tony opened the door and I stepped in slowly. I stood for some long seconds under the doorframe. I looked at the double bed. This is new. I don’t usually get a double bed to crash out in. Tony fidgeted beside me. Sharyna and Pablo remained in the hallway.
Yeah, not too bad. I’ll see where my life rolls from here.
I went and placed my meerkat gently between the pillows. I checked out the furniture. “Where’s the telly?” I asked.
“The last girl we had staying with us didn’t watch too much telly,” explained Tony. “She read a lot of misery books.”
I stepped toward the window and peered out into the back garden. I could just about make out the shape of a shed. I thought of Dad. If he could get his life up to spec he could live in a house like this. “Do I look like I read a lot? I wanna telly.”
“Ask me like that and you won’t get it, young lady.”
I turned around. I picked up my meerkat and pressed it tight against my chest. “I want a frucking telly! What do you expect me to do when I’m up here? Play noughts and crosses on the walls?”
Sharyna and Pablo crept closer to the door. I lasered my eyes into Tony’s forehead but he must’ve had a deflective shield cos he remained calm. I heard two pairs of feet hoofing up the stairs. “You won’t get a TV if you talk to me like that,” Tony said again.
Louise rushed into the room. There were custard cream crumbs about her mouth. I nearly busted out a giggle. “Everything all right?” she asked, looking at me and then to Tony.
“Everything’s fine,” replied Tony. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
Almost bouncing into Louise, Colleen stumbled in. “Anything wrong?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I just wondered if it’s all right me having a telly in my room.”
Colleen and Tony swapped glances. Tony shook his head and dropped my bags on the floor. He smiled and said under his breath, “We have one of those.”
“Er, yes, the spare TV’s in my room,” said Colleen.
Tony shook his head again. Louise glanced at him. “I’ll get the telly,” he offered.
I dropped my attitude. “I want a DVD player too,” I said. “I’ve got nuff DVDs in my bag. I’d love to watch ’em. Sometimes I can’t sleep. I get nightmares.”
I wasn’t lying. I had issues with my sleeping as long as I could remember. Tony smiled a funny smile.
“Attitude, Naomi,” said Louise. “Remember we talked about the right tone when we’re talking to people? And I think we’re missing a word.”
Louise keeps playing that same tune. I’m not a frucking idiot. I get it. I clutched my meerkat even tighter and rolled my eyes. “Pretty please with bells on wrapped in a pink envelope.”
“Yes, you may,” replied Tony with a posh voice. I flung him an evil look.
Tony left the room. Colleen smiled nervously. “Do I need to wash any of your clothes tonight?” she asked. “Maybe a school uniform?”
“She’s not attending school until next Monday,” explained Louise. “She has Thursday and Friday off to help her adjust to her new surroundings and to give her time to bond with her new family.”
“So you’ll be with me during the day,” said Colleen. “We can get to know each other.”
“Woo hoo!” I mocked. “This is all a bit too much.”
That wasn’t called for. She’s only trying to be nice. Allow her.
Returning with a portable TV, Tony waited until I cleared the books from the desk. He dropped his posh voice. “Thank you,” he said.
“Where’s the . . . ?”
Sharyna entered carrying a DVD player. She placed it beside the television and gave me a gorgylicious smile. How can I carry on spitting attitude after that?
�
�Thanks,” I said. “What’s your name again?”
“Sharyna.”
“Maybe when they leave us alone we can watch some spine curlers.”
“That would be so—”
Louise cut off Sharyna’s excited response. “She’s only eleven,” she warned.
“I watched horror films when I was six,” I said. I wasn’t lying. Mum used to love ’em too. We’d sit down in our raggedy sofa munching Haribos. “The new Evil Dead’s the gorilla’s knuckles.”
“Sharyna, would you like to show Naomi the rest of the house?”
“Yeah,” Sharyna smiled. “I’ll show her my room first.”
* * *
Half an hour later, I was in my room running my fingers through Sharyna’s braids. She didn’t mind. We were getting on neatly.
Louise popped her head around the door. “Can I have a minute?” she asked.
“Sure,” replied Sharyna.
Louise waited until Sharyna closed the door. “Will you be all right here?”
“As long as he doesn’t prick fiddle around me.”
“I think you’re getting a bit paranoid.”
“They’re all alike,” I argued. “Kim warned me about men who foster kids. Loads of ’em tried it on with her. She told me not to trust ’em. You see it all the time in the papers and on the news.”
Louise gave me her top-ranking really look. “Not all men are like the ones in the news,” she said. “And Kim doesn’t know everyone. She’s not the oracle on everything.”
“Oracle? Stop talking foreign. If he tries game on me I’ll stab him in his prick. I’m not playing!”
Louise patted me on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. You must stop thinking that everything Kim says is true. She sometimes . . . stretches the truth.”
“So do social wankers.”
Louise shook her head.
“Don’t blame me if you get a 9-9-9 later tonight,” I added.
“Stop worrying. Mr. Golding’s one of the good guys.”
“There ain’t no good men who foster kids. They’ve all got . . . what d’you call it . . . an agenda.”
Louise placed her hands on her hips. “You think I’d put you with someone inappropriate?”
“You put me with the Holmans. He was the ultimate prick fiddler and I could tell on my first day with them that she was all wrong by her purple leggings and pink plimsolls.”
“Hmmm.”
“Don’t hmmm me,” I said. “I know that means you think I’m talking shit.”
Louise couldn’t help busting out a smile.
“When are you coming again?” I wanted to know.
“Let me see. It’s Wednesday today. I’ll see how you are on Friday morning.”
“Don’t I get pocket money?” I asked. “These Golding peeps might not give me squiddly jack. Look how he munched his boxers about the telly.”
“I’m sure they will.”
I held out my hand. “Say they don’t? I don’t wanna be part of no Austria program.”
“Austerity program,” Louise corrected me. “They’ll give you what they think is appropriate.”
“Say they don’t?” I repeated. “And your appropriate is not on the same level as my appropriate.”
Louise gave me another really look, shook her head, and took out her purse. It had nuff cards in it. I wonder how much they pay social wankers. She handed me a ten-pound note. “Don’t spend it on cigarettes,” she said. “Some of this can go toward the chocolate biscuits you want.”
I placed the note in a zip compartment of my backpack.
“The Goldings are good people,” Louise went on. “They’ve been fostering for the council for years.”
Monkey on skis. Doesn’t she realize she’s repeating herself? She’s going senile already.
“That’s what you said about the Holmans,” I said.
“You’ll be okay here for a week or two until I can find a better arrangement.”
“You said that and all.”
“Be good.” Louise smiled.
She opened the door but paused before leaving. She offered me another smile. I can’t lie. I was sorry to see her go. Why can’t she foster me? I would squeeze all kinda notes outta her. I picked up my meerkat and held it on my lap.
chapter three
Bathroom Issues
It was late-night o’clock. I sat on my bed with my pink towel draped over my shoulder. Colleen watched me from the doorway.
“He’s downstairs,” Colleen insisted. “You can check my room if you want.”
“He might be in Pablo’s room or Sharyna’s room,” I said. “Have you got an attic? He might’ve bounced up there.”
“Tone!” Colleen called. “Holler something so Naomi believes you’re downstairs.”
“I’M DOWNSTAIRS, Naomi!”
“See!” said Colleen. Impatience nibbled her cheeks.
Kim told me to get my prick-fiddler radar out on this issue.
“Unless my husband has learned a new trick of sending his voice to different parts of the house, he’s downstairs,” assured Colleen.
“Will he stay downstairs while I’m having my shower?” I wanted confirmation.
“Of course he will.”
“Promise.”
“I PROMISE, NAOMI!” Tony yelled. “With bells on wrapped in a pink envelope.”
That’s the living cheek! Using my own lyrics against me. At least he’s got jokes inside of him. Kim would’ve loved the way I insisted that Tony had to park his toes downstairs while I’m flinging off my BO. I picked up my meerkat and stood up. Without a word, I breezed past Colleen and into the hallway. I paused for a short second to glance down the staircase before stepping into the bathroom. Nerves spat and crackled inside of me as I opened the door. I closed my eyes as I took a step forward. It was okay. Just a standard bathroom. The tub was clean. I could sniff some kinda cleaning liquid. I let a long breath go and closed the door behind me.
I didn’t love baths but I needed to think. Sadness munched my heart. It had been the longest day. I placed my meerkat behind the shower hose so I didn’t have to look down. I wished it could smile. I closed my eyes and allowed the water to bounce off my head.
Two scrubbings later, someone slapped the door.
“You okay, Naomi?” Colleen asked.
“Is he still downstairs?” I responded.
“Yes, he is. Don’t worry. He won’t come up until you’re ready.”
After eleven I was in bed with my meerkat beside me. Tiredness licked me. Colleen watched me from the doorway once again. “If you want anything, don’t be shy to ask. And if you’re hungry or thirsty during the night just go down to the kitchen and help yourself.”
I nodded. “Leave the light on,” I insisted. “And leave the door open . . . but not too much.”
“You have a lamp beside your bed on the cabinet.”
“Not gonna use it. Leave the main light on.”
“Okay, good night then.”
“Can you do my hair in the morning like Alicia Keys or Solange—she’s Beyoncé’s liccle sis.”
“I’ll try.”
“And don’t forget the chocolate biscuits,” I said with a smile.
Louise forever told me to smile more.
“I won’t,” Colleen replied.
I think I’m gonna be all right. Colleen’s on point.
I turned to face the window and hugged my meerkat. I should really give it a name, but what name? It’s not like I’ve got anyone to name it after. I can’t call it Mum. I don’t think she’d like to be rechristened an animal. I closed my eyes but I couldn’t sleep.
Later on that night, Colleen checked on me. I pretended I was asleep. Half an hour later, I rolled outta bed and twinky-toed along the hallway to the Goldings’ bedroom. I made the same move at the Holmans’ on my first night there. I wanted to download what peeps said about me.
The door was half-cracked. The news was on a low volume. Colleen spoke, “. .
. can’t complain we got a quiet one this time,” she said. “She’s a bit fiery.”
“You can say that again,” said Tony. “But I can’t relax the rules too much just because she’s here for a short time.”
“No, you can’t,” said Colleen. “But as you say, it’ll only be for a week or so till Louise sorts something out.”
“It can’t be for more than that anyway,” Tony said. “Remember Louise was telling us that we’d have to fill in all sorts of race-awareness forms for a longer stay.”
“It’s gonna be different,” said Colleen. “Are you sure you can handle it? And then there’s your dad.”
There was a long pause. Someone on TV was talking about issues in the Middle East. I wondered what the drama with Tony’s dad was all about.
“As long as she doesn’t harm herself,” Tony finally replied. “We’ll deal with my dad when we come to it. Might not need to.”
“I’m gonna get myself a nightcap,” said Colleen. “Do you want anything?”
I heard Tony laugh. “Don’t let Louise find out about your late-night drinking,” he said. “That’ll lead to a social services inquisition.”
I wondered what inquisition meant. I might have issues but I’m not cadazy enough to barb-wire my wrists. This Tony doesn’t rate me.
I soft-toed back to my room but I still couldn’t sleep.
chapter four
Morning Rush
I sat up in bed watching the comings and goings of my new foster family as they got ready for their nine-to-five. I laughed when Pablo pulled on different-colored socks in the hallway. I giggled when Tony waited impatiently outside the bathroom for Sharyna to finish showering. I was dressed in my Stormzy T-shirt and my pink jogging bottoms—my sleeping garms. I decided to get up and bounce downstairs. I took my meerkat with me. I wasn’t paying attention last night but I noticed framed pics hanging from the staircase walls of black women washing clothes in a river and carrying fruit in baskets on top of their bonces. There was a photograph of black men garmed in raggedy prison uniforms nine-to-fiving on a rail track. Underneath were the lyrics, We also built your cabins and planted your corn, only to be treated with scorn. I paused. “I s’pose in that country they haven’t got any shopping trolleys or washing machines,” I whispered to myself. Maybe Angelina Jolie, David Beckham, and those peeps on Comic Relief could do something.