Home Girl

by Alex Wheatle

“It has to hurt for a while before we get over stuff,” said Emily. “Everyone who has ever loved someone goes through that shitty time. I cried for weeks when my gran died. It shows how much we loved them. If you want you can always call me up. One day you’ll be good.”

  “You’re not just saying that, right? You’ll definitely keep dinging me every now and again?”

  “Course I will. Maybe next time I’ll take you to that American diner that’s next door to the Thai place.”

  I grinned. “I’m gonna reserve a napkin on that one.”

  “That’ll be cool for a chillaxed girl,” Emily replied.

  I wished she wouldn’t use that word. So last millennium.

  We sat there in silence for the next ten minutes. My thoughts swayed to the Goldings and my school sistrens. Kim would want an update on my latest drama.

  “I haven’t got too many friends, to be honest,” I said. “So make sure you keep me on your TV dish. I know that Kim has my spine but Nats goes funny on me sometimes.”

  Emily smiled and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sure Nats has your back too.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. I grabbed my meerkat and bounced down the stairs. I slowed down when I realized I looked too eager. Emily followed me with my bags.

  Her arms folded, Susan managed a smile and greeted Louise with a peck on the cheek. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she said to Louise. “Maybe . . . maybe I need to read more. I want to understand and learn from this.”

  “Thanks for having Naomi,” Louise responded. “Don’t blame yourself. Sometimes . . . sometimes it just doesn’t work out. I’m sure there’s a young person out there who really needs someone like you.”

  “Can I get in the car?” I cut their flow.

  “Of course.”

  I gave Susan a hug but I could feel her stiffness and disappointment. “Remember that hill,” she said.

  “I will,” I replied. No I won’t!

  Emily dropped my bags into the trunk of the car. Susan remained by the front door, her arms still crossed.

  “We’ll catch up soon,” Louise said to her.

  “Yes, let’s do lunch. I’ll try and talk you out of your coffee habit!”

  “I suppose you can try.”

  I was already in the passenger seat. It felt awkward but I wanted to get back to the Goldings’ place in flashtime.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” said Emily, closing the passenger-

  side door and giving me a bagful of cake slices wrapped in kitchen foil. “You’ve got my number. When you’re ready, give me a call and we’ll go out.”

  “Deffo,” I smiled. “Maybe you can take me to Australia or something.”

  Starting the engine, Louise waved at Susan before pulling away. Emily gave me a thumbs-up and a big smile. I’m not gonna lie, I was sorry to leave her.

  chapter ten

  The Shark in Louise's Knickers

  Parking on a side street just two turnings from the Goldings’ house, Louise killed the engine and turned off the car stereo. For twenty seconds she sat in silence staring through the windshield. She then scoped me hard like she was counting the hairs of my eyebrows. I tried to ignore her by stroking my meerkat—I thought of calling it Emily. “I’m waiting, Naomi!” Louise exploded. “This is going to be interesting, I should imagine.”

  “What?”

  “I’m waiting to hear what terrible crime Susan’s just committed.”

  “She was scratching my nerves.”

  “Scratching your nerves? By giving you suggestions about careers and education? Let’s try her at the Old Bailey! In fact, let’s not bother with the trial. Let’s hang, draw, and quarter her!”

  “What shark got stuck up your knickers? She was ordering me around, being bossy.”

  “You couldn’t even say a proper goodbye. You ran to my car like a whippet.”

  I wondered what a whippet was. I guessed it was a Usain Bolt–like shark. “I didn’t give her a proper goodbye? I hugged her, didn’t I? I don’t pretend to like people. That’s what adults do. That’s what you do.”

  Louise raised her voice: “She took care of you, tried to advise you. Encouraged you. And you can’t even be bothered to stay another day? She didn’t show it but she feels terrible.”

  “Boo diddery hoo! I can’t believe the hard-curb life she’s had. Let’s give her a social worker. Let’s send her for counseling. Give her a frucking lolli—”

  “Your sarcasm’s not working, Naomi.”

  “So what d’you want me to do?” I asked. “Stay with someone who I don’t like? It wouldn’t be so bad if Emily would be around but she’s at uni.”

  Louise gripped the steering wheel hard. Maybe she imagined it being my head. She bit her bottom lip before reaching out for a cigarette in the glove compartment. “And don’t think I didn’t realize that you stole my cigarettes when I dropped you at Susan’s. They call that theft, Naomi.”

  She got me on that one. I didn’t reply. Instead, I held my meerkat against my chest.

  Winding down the driver’s-side window, Louise ignited her fagarette and pulled on it like it gave her life.

  “Can I have one?” I asked.

  Louise gave me my biggest-ever really glare.

  “She was doing my head in,” I said. “Couldn’t take to her. Another day of her, somebody would’ve had to call the feds out on a grimy murder. Trust me, I woulda made full use of that canoe paddle in her basement. And you wouldn’t want that drama to happen cos you’re always bitching about your paperwork and social wanker inquiries.”

  I think she agreed with me on that one. She puffed her smoke out the window. “She did everything she could to be nice to you. She made her house your own, gave you your own space to watch your DVDs, took you bike-riding.”

  “My legs are still screaming on that one.”

  “I just,” Louise stuttered, “I just can’t understand. What did she do that was so wrong? Tell me, because for the life of me, I can’t work it out.”

  Monkey in the witness box. It must be one of them fat great white’s finning around her crotches. I wonder if her boyfriend has stressed her out lately. “She . . . she was lecturing me,” I replied. “She wouldn’t stop going on.”

  “She was trying to advise you on careers after teaching you a life skill. And for that you swore at her, got out of her car, and ran off down the street.”

  “I didn’t run.”

  “Same difference.”

  “I just didn’t want to stay with her. Are you gonna put me on lockdown and fling away the keys for that? No! And I didn’t ask to stay with her. It was your idea. Your mission.”

  “Susan’s a kind woman,” said Louise. “She’s a dear friend of mine and has worked with children for many years now. I just hope this experience doesn’t stop her—”

  “From what?” I snapped her flow. “From fostering again? Oh my days! It’s a tragedy! Let’s get the fiddler to play outside her gates! If she wants another kid so bad why doesn’t she just bang thighs with her man again and give birth to one? Another Emily would be a yes-yes for the world.”

  “Naomi, sometimes you go too—”

  “No kid I know would wanna stay with her,” I corked her dribble. “Every minute she was up in my face. Is the pillow all right? Is the juice too warm? Is your room too hot? You sure you don’t want me to switch off your bedroom light? Do you know where the downstairs toilet is if someone’s in the upstairs one? Is the bog paper soft enough—”

  “I think you’re exaggerating, Naomi.”

  “No. I’m not. And she kept chit-chattering on about the outdoor life. If she loves it so much, why don’t she put her helmet on, pack her compass, and stomp to the North Pole!”

  “She was only thinking about your comfort.”

  “I’m fourteen! I don’t need someone asking me if my pillow’s fat enough and if I need the light on or off.”

  “It’s called showing concern for others, Naomi. T
hat’s all.”

  “Anyway, I thought you said that if I didn’t like somewhere you put me, all I had to do was holler out loud and you’d move me. So why are you munching your G-strings about it?”

  Louise rubbed her forehead. I had her there. She sat very still staring through the windshield for the longest time. I thought about slapping her to get her out of her trauma zone.

  “I’m really at a loss as to what to do with you,” she said finally. “I’ve lost count of the amount of fostering placements you’ve had . . . How will I or any of us ever be able to find an adoption family for you or even a foster family that’ll give you a bit of stability?”

  “The Goldings were on point,” I said. “Tony chews his boxers a bit but Colleen’s okay . . . and I love Sharyna and Pablo. Soon, if I keep up my ratings, Colleen will trust me enough to babysit for ’em.”

  Louise placed a hand on my shoulder and her rage faded. She looked at me with kind eyes again. “They’re not ideal for the long term, Naomi,” she said. “I’ve told you already about the problems of long-term interracial fostering and the council policy on—”

  “No you haven’t.”

  Louise ignored me. “And besides, how long will it take for you to find something wrong with them, I wonder? If this continues I’ll have to return you to the care unit or a home out of the area. Do you want that, Naomi?”

  I didn’t answer. I stroked my meerkat again.

  “And if you do return to the unit, I’ll be a bit concerned about the influence Kim and Nats have on you. I’m trying to keep you away from all that.”

  I gave Louise a long eye-pass. She didn’t back down and eyeballed me with interest.

  “The Goldings will do for now,” I said after a while. “But I still can’t see why you can’t give me my own place. I can look after myself. I don’t need anyone looking out for me. I looked after my dad, didn’t I?”

  Louise shook her head.

  “Just give me the funds you gave him,” I went on. “I won’t waste it on liquor. I’ll pay the rent. I’ll turn off the lights at night. I know how to use a thermostat so I won’t blow up the bills. I know how to look out for bargains in the supermarket. Kim’s already shown me where the charity shops are where I can get secondhand garms. You can call me Miss Naomi Cheapo.”

  Louise smiled for a short second but it quickly died.

  “I could even foster young kids, maybe just one at first,” I suggested. “If you have to, you can come and visit me once a week. I’ll even give ya your coffee and custard creams. I’ll even have a roll-up waiting for ya. When I put the kids to bed we could watch a horror movie together. It’ll be sweet.”

  For the first time since I’d known her, there was a tear in Louise’s eye. She lowered her head and blinked twice before wiping it away. She then cleared her throat. Her cancer stick had grown a long ash end. “You know we can’t allow you to do that,” she said. “Be sensible, Naomi.”

  “Why not?” I wanted to know. “I’ll give ’em better care than loads of zero-rated mums out there. You should know the score on that one. You work with some—”

  “We’ve been through this before. You’re too young.”

  “But I was old enough to look after my dad?” I argued. “Old enough to give him his pills? And I did all the shopping. It was me who always put funds on the electric key and gas card. Me who scrubbed up the whole place when social wankers visited. Me who made sure he went to the doctor’s. I did all that stuff.”

  “I know what you’ve been through, Naomi. It wasn’t right that you had to take that on. You should’ve received more help. We all admit that. But you’re still a child and need looking after.”

  “I’m not a frucking kid!”

  Louise shook her head again. Her harsh tones returned: “This is getting us nowhere.”

  What’s the matter with social wankers? Their moods swing more than Tarzan.

  “Why can’t you listen to me and ask what I want!”

  Louise gazed through the windshield again. She then threw her butt end out of the window. “Let me get you back to the Goldings,” she said. “I’m taking a day off on Monday so make sure you go to school that morning.”

  “Tony takes me.”

  “Hmmm,” responded Louise. She restarted the car. “No more day trips to your great-grandmother’s flat.”

  “There wouldn’t have to be day trips if a certain someone took me to see her.”

  I tuned into the radio station that I wanted as Louise pulled away. She didn’t look at me once the whole journey. I guessed she was really pissed at me or was thinking about something. I didn’t go too far, did I?

  Louise pulled up outside the Goldings’ home. “I . . . I won’t be seeing you to the door,” she said. “You’ll be all right, won’t you?”

  I nodded and stepped out to the trunk where I collected my bags.

  “Naomi,” Louise called.

  “What is it now? I haven’t jacked any of your fagarettes.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Louise was about to say something then hesitated. She stared at the ground. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry . . . sorry for placing you with somebody that obviously didn’t work for you. I just . . . I just thought Susan might’ve been a good influence on you. My mistake. If it’s okay by you, we don’t have to tell the Goldings about this.”

  I wanted to grin off my cheeks but she did say sorry. Grown-ups don’t usually do that, in my world. “If they ask me no questions, I can’t tell any lies,” I said.

  “I guess I had a personal stake in things working out with you and Susan,” Louise added.

  “Don’t know what you mean about a personal stake but don’t fist yourself up about it, Louise,” I said. “Grown-ups mess up too. Even social workers. Makes ya normal.”

  I wasn’t sure if Louise was about to laugh or cry. She punched into first gear and was off. Monkey hot-pawing away from hunters. That was emotional.

  chapter eleven

  Shortbread and Shortcomings

  “I’ll make it,” I insisted as Tony filled the kettle with water.

  “Thank you,” he said, then parked himself at the kitchen table. There was a packet of bourbon cream biscuits on the counter and he reached for them. He took out two and offered me the packet. I picked out three.

  Tony scoped me nervously. “So . . . so what happened at the Hamiltons’ place? Didn’t . . . did you disagree about something?”

  “Louise told me not to spill,” I replied. “But it’s no biggie. I dunno why she’s stamping a big confidential on it. Basically, Susan tried hard but she just couldn’t tickle my like cells. Sometimes it rocks that way. Not that she did anything off-point to me, cos if she did I wouldn’t have stayed another second. I would’ve taken a bus home.”

  I said home.

  Tony stared at the steaming kettle. I guessed he wanted to know more of what went down but didn’t know how to ask.

  “There are some peeps you just can’t get on with,” I said.

  “That’s true enough,” replied Tony. “There are some people I don’t get on with.”

  “Louise,” I guessed.

  Tony looked at me for a long second before he nodded. “We’ve had our disagreements over council policy at times.”

  “What don’t you like about her and the council policy?” I wanted to know.

  “As I said, just the odd disagreement. That’s all. Nothing too serious.”

  “At first I thought she was a first-class bitch,” I said. “But when you get to know her she’s on point. She does care.”

  “So she should,” Tony put in.

  The kettle had boiled. I made Tony his mug of coffee. I even stirred it for him.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. He took a sip and I crunched another bourbon.

  “I think she’s having issues with her boyfriend,” I gossiped. “Louise has been brewing lately. Getti
ng all emotional. She almost leaked tears the other day.”

  I could see Tony felt awkward. He changed the subject: “Did you like the bike-riding?”

  “I did at first but Susan wanted to ride up mountains that got clouds swirling around ’em. Me and Emily were having asthma attacks.”

  Hearing Colleen come down the stairs, I collected another mug from the cupboard. “I’ve just made Tony a coffee,” I said to her as she came in. “D’you want one?”

  “Okay, then, darling. Remember I have mine—”

  “Black,” I cut in. “Yes, I know. I can remember stuff.”

  “Pablo settled down?” asked Tony.

  “Yes, he has,” replied Colleen. “He’s a little excited that Naomi’s back. He now wants to go bike-riding in the mountains.”

  “I’m gonna make shortbread with him tomorrow,” I said.

  “Make sure you leave the kitchen how you found it,” warned Tony. “And follow the directions carefully.”

  “We will. I know how to clean up after myself and I’ve baked stuff for my dad before. I know what I’m doing.”

  I gave Colleen her mug of coffee. She took a sip. “Thanks, Naomi.”

  “That’s all right.”

  Tony and Colleen swapped something with their eyes. They both nodded. I wondered what mission they had planned.

  “Yesterday we were checking out places where they have urban dance classes,” Colleen said.

  “Oh?” I said. I poured myself a glass of Coke. Monkey sitting down in class with a pencil and paying attention.

  “We found a place near North Crongton—a community center,” Colleen said. “There’s a dance club that is based there. It’s called Urban Steps.”

  “Near North Crongton? Kim calls Crongton Shank Town—a place of untold murkings. Is this community center safe?”

  “We think so,” said Colleen. “There’s been no trouble inside that we’ve heard of. Urban Steps have done performances in schools and for the Crongton council. Some of their members have appeared in a couple of pop and grime videos.”

  “Appeared in videos? Who were they for? The Wolf Riders? Moleskin? The Beaver Crew?”

  “I can’t remember their names,” Colleen replied. “They last performed at the Crongton Park Country Show. They got a massive ovation—there’s a clip on their website. It’s a bit of a drive but we wondered if you’d like to try out with them?”