Home Girl

by Alex Wheatle

  “You’re only saying that cos he tickles your fancy,” said Kim. “And they’ll always be peeps mauling each other. Richard thinks—”

  “I don’t fancy him!” I protested. “He’s too short.”

  “His dick is probably short an’ all,” laughed Kim.

  “Fancy Richard?” Nats shook her head in disgust. “Kim’s on point, you can’t trust any guys, Naoms, even if they’re teachers. Anyway, we’re waiting. What did you write down?”

  They both glared at me hard but I made them wait a few more seconds. “My dad used to jack goods from corner shops,” I admitted.

  “Is that all?” said Kim. Her eyeballs did a full circle. “After all your hype? That’s not exactly the confession of a teenage serial killer, Naoms. The way you puffed it up with your big pause, I thought you or your dad gored a man in his balls or something.”

  Nats bent herself up in mad giggles.

  “It was the way he used to do it,” I said.

  “How did he used to steal then?” Nats asked.

  “He’d use me,” I answered. “He’d ask me to step inside a shop and pretend I was in the trauma zone. He used to rub my face and pinch my nose till they turned red and then he’d roll me in.”

  “What then?” asked Kim.

  “I’d start crying. You know, proper-little-cute-girl-in-a-Disney-movie-lost-her-puppy bawling. I’d fall to my knees and the shopkeeper would come around and ask if I was all right. Sometimes they’d just look at me for the longest time and I’d really have to charge up the dramatics.”

  “Our girl wants an Oscar,” chuckled Kim.

  “Anyway, when they came up to me I’d ask for a drink of water,” I continued. “They’d go and get the water and Dad would bounce in and jack stuff. He’d go for his liquor, bread, cereal, milk, and my Coke—I wouldn’t do it if he refused to get my fizz. Oh, and he’d rob a few tubes of extra-strong mints—he never loved the social peeps sniffing alcohol on his breath.”

  “So when the shopkeeper came back with your drink of water, what would you tell ’em?” Kim wanted to know.

  “I’d give ’em my Paps is sick in bed and the doctor was shaking his head story, let loose some more tears, and they’d give me a packet of chocolate biscuits or something. I’d thank ’em but by that time Dad was hotfooting home getting ready to make my brekkie.”

  “That’s kinda clever for a guy,” said Nats.

  “He should’ve jacked the notes outta the till,” said Kim. “That’s what I would’ve done. What’s the point in getting yourself on lockdown for robbing a few bits of food and liquor? Bomb that. Might as well go for the jackpot.”

  “Dad used to feel guilty though,” I said. “Sometimes, after he picked up the child benefit funds from the post office, he’d take it and leave money on the shop counter when the assistant wasn’t looking. Usually a few twenty-pence pieces. It didn’t cover the cost of all the things he jacked though. It made him feel on the level. I’m not a criminal, he’d keep telling me. But you have to eat, don’t ya?”

  Kim shook her head. “That’s just a dumb-ass mission,” she said. “What did he wanna give the change back for? They’ll only suspect him of jacking the stuff if he got caught putting the silver on the counter.”

  “Wassername?” Nats thought out aloud. “Anita Stelling. She got a sentence for stealing some perfume during the Ashburton riots.”

  “Anita’s not been blessed with too much brain juice,” said Kim. “It was only a cheapo brand. If you’re gonna jack stuff, you might as well go for the first-class shit.”

  “I’d only munch porridge oats for Chanel N°5,” laughed Nats. “Or if any bruv tried it on me again. I’d definitely do time for that.”

  After what Nats went through with her foster brother, I’d do time with her if another guy troubled her.

  “It’s a good little scam that your dad had though, Naoms,” said Kim. “When I have a kid, I might play the same game. I’ll dress her up all cute so the shop people will go ahhhh. Put her in little pink tights, little white boots, and a nice little white jacket. I might slap a liccle pink beret on her bonce.”

  “How’re you ever gonna have a kid?” asked Nats. “You said you’ll never bump thighs with a man again. And we’re gonna be twined for the longest time, right?” She scoped Kim hard.

  For a second I sensed hesitation in Kim’s eyes. “Er . . . yeah,” she said. “We’re gonna be linked forever, Nats, you know that.”

  Again I was in the awkward zone.

  Nats’s eyebrows softened. “And—” she stuttered, “and didn’t you say a long time ago that you don’t wanna go through the living agonies of having a baby?”

  “You’re not wrong,” replied Kim. “Bomb having a baby and all that screaming malarkey. I’m gonna adopt one day. And then I’ll work the scam.”

  “You adopt?” giggled Nats. “I suppose it could be big fun being parents together.”

  I couldn’t imagine Kim and Nats adopting. That’ll be a war game.

  “Dunno why you two have got the laughing bends,” said Kim. “I’m serious. If there’s a liccle chick out there, say around ten or eleven, who has all sorts of issues and woe going on—don’t want ’em too young with all that wiping away shit and drying tears. But who better to understand a ten-year-old girl with issues more than me? In fact, the social should be paying me a caravan load of funds for my know-how.”

  “They won’t give it to you, Kim,” said Nats. “They only give money once you’re over eighteen and if you’re living with a bruv—a so-called stable relationship. It doesn’t matter if that guy is a pedo or something. They keep giving ’em the funds and they do what guys do. They should let lesbian couples raise more kids. It’s safer that way.”

  “My dad had drinking issues but I always felt safe with him,” I said.

  “Some bruvs are on point,” said Kim. “Just a few . . . maybe?”

  “I wouldn’t trust any of ’em!” Nats raised her tones. “Didn’t the pricks give my dad and his girlfriend funds to help look after me? And he had to make sure he had a girlfriend who stayed at home to get it cos he worked in the evenings. And his girlfriend’s son was a prick! He was all nice when the social interviewed him. That’s what they do. He was the one who made me a coffee and gave me a Viennese whirl at the first meeting. Guys pretend shit but really they’re blatantly evil. I swear that if I ever see him again, that trigger’s getting—”

  “Let’s not go into that one again,” said Kim. “Don’t wanna put Naomi on the down-low, do we, and make her scared of any bruv in trousers? I thought you had got over the hill on that one, Nats? We’ve talked about it nuff times. Don’t let what that drainhead did to ya sabotage your life.”

  Nats crossed her arms and looked out to the main road. Then she stood up and stepped away. I wanted to follow her and give her a hug but I thought better of it. Monkey in a test lab. I thought I had a boxful of issues.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Colleen arrived to pick me up. She asked me how school flowed for the day but I thought about Nats. How could she ever trust bruvs again after the shit she’s been through? She’s blessed that she has Kim loving her and backing her spine though. She lucked out on that one.

  “Louise still wants to get me adopted, right?” I said to Colleen.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “That’s the general plan.”

  “If she does find someone,” I said, “I don’t want ’em to have a son in the house who’s older than me.”

  Colleen side-eyed me. “Why . . . why not?”

  I nibbled my bottom lip.

  She stopped at a traffic light. “Why not?” she repeated. “What’s brought this on?”

  “Cos if he’s younger than me, I can boot him off if he wants sex. But if he’s older and bigger than me, I’ll look for something to gore him with. I’m not playing. The bluebloods will call it murder one.”

  Colleen swallowed something. She managed to keep her eyes on the road. “Have you been liste
ning to Kim and Nats again?”

  “What if I have? What Nats had to go through was real.”

  Colleen concentrated on her driving for a minute. “I’m . . . I’m sure Louise will take everything into consideration,” she said. “Not all young men are like . . . like the guy who attacked Nats, Naomi. You girls have to learn to trust again.”

  “Some are like that,” I said. “Too frucking many.”

  “Swearing, Naomi.”

  “Sorry.”

  We drove in silence for two minutes.

  “Wherever you’re placed,” said Colleen—she tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes—“the final say is all yours. So don’t worry.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “No, I’m not,” replied Colleen. “It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” I said. “There’s no way I’m gonna live with a foster bruv who’s older than me. I don’t want my parts to be fiddled with.”

  “Louise wouldn’t let that happen to you. As I said, wherever is suggested you go is up to you . . . only you.”

  chapter fourteen

  Mutton and Milton

  Colleen had taken us to the Ashburton Southside shopping mall. Tony wanted to buy shelves and other stuff in a DIY store. Sharyna and I swapped glances. I decided I didn’t wanna spend my precious Saturday afternoon scoping bits of wood.

  “Can Sharyna and I check out a couple of clothes stores?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Colleen replied, “but meet us back here.”

  “Can I come too?” Pablo asked.

  Colleen narrowed her eyes and thought about it. Tony shook his head.

  “Let him come,” I urged. “We’ll keep a close link on him. Promise.”

  Colleen uummed and ahhed. Everyone looked at each other.

  “All right,” said Tony. He kneeled down to his son and wagged a finger at him. “Have you learned your lesson, Pablo?”

  Pablo grinned and nodded.

  “Don’t wander off,” warned Tony.

  Pablo wanted to blitz into the game store but he had to wait as Sharyna and I checked out jeans, tops, jackets, and a world of other clothes. I can’t remember how many shops we rolled into but one second Pablo was there, the next he wasn’t. It felt like all the shit in the world had dropped on my head. It was too soon after the oven issue. What’s Colleen and Tony gonna think of me now? You’re not a grown-up, Naomi, you can’t even supervise a six-year-old. This is gonna drop my ratings like a penny in a fish tank. I’m not sure how a brain sweats but mine did—it leaked outta my ears.

  Sharyna and I doubled back on ourselves, returning to every shop we had visited including the game store. No Pablo. Monkey not focused. I should’ve held his hand. Why didn’t I hold his hand? They’ll stamp this one down in my file and put it on that spreadsheet that Kim talked about. Louise and her social wankers will never let me foster or adopt in the future.

  “I’m gonna have to spill to Colleen,” I said to Sharyna. “I’m gonna have to drop it on ’em.”

  “No,” Sharyna said. “Let’s go back to the game store again. He might be in there now.”

  I shook my head.

  We took an escalator down to the DIY store. I spotted Tony holding shelves and a big plastic bag. Colleen carried two pots of paint. We slow-toed toward ’em. My heart fly-kicked my rib cage. Shame karate-chopped my guts.

  Colleen noticed us first. “Where’s Pablo?” she asked. Her eyes darted everywhere.

  Sharyna stared at the floor.

  “I . . . I thought he was with us,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll find him,” Tony said. “I think I know where he might’ve gone.”

  He hot-stepped away as I tried to kill my tears.

  I looked up to Colleen. I expected her to launch the cuss attack from hell. “Sorry,” I repeated.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Colleen said. “He’s done it to us too . . . lots of times.”

  I didn’t feel any better.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Pablo was found kicking a tennis ball against the brightly painted stone gnomes in the Homebase garden department.

  Colleen tried her best to keep her voice on the level. “How many times have I told you not to run off? I thought you stopped doing that. You had us worried out of our minds.”

  “I wanted to see the little men,” giggled Pablo. “The same little men that Granddad’s got in his garden.”

  “And how many times have I told you not to bring that old tennis ball with you while we’re out shopping?” said Tony. “You need to throw that thing away.”

  “But it’s boring just looking at stuff,” Pablo said. “Can’t we go to the game store? Sharyna and Naomi didn’t take me.”

  “We’re going home now,” said Colleen. “Maybe your dad can take you to the park later on.”

  “Can’t we buy some of those little men?” Pablo pleaded. “One of them can be the goalie for my football net. It’ll be better than Dad.”

  Tony couldn’t block his chuckles and nor could I.

  “Don’t even go there, Mum,” said Sharyna. “They creep me out and so do the ones that Granddad’s got. It’s like wherever you go in Granddad’s garden, them things are staring at you.”

  “We didn’t come here to buy any little men,” said Tony. “We’ve got the shelves and the other stuff, finally, so let’s head home.”

  Pablo made a face.

  Tony looked at me but I sensed he didn’t wanna boot my ass to prison island. “I thought he’d stay with you,” he said. “He hasn’t wandered off for a while. What young kid wants to hang around a DIY store with their parents when they’ve got older sisters to follow?”

  He said sisters.

  “He’ll learn to keep us in sight,” Tony added on.

  “He better learn,” Colleen put in.

  “And I like the way when things don’t go to plan, you’re always wanting to do good for Sharyna and Pabs,” Tony said. “You always see to it that they’re having a good time. Thanks for that, Naomi. Most wouldn’t bother to try again.”

  Are they proper thanking me? Monkey performing magic tricks on Britain’s Got Talent. Can’t remember any foster carer boosting me up after I messed up.

  Pablo pouted until Colleen pulled out of the Southside car park. He looked at his ball for a while before throwing it at Tony’s head. Thwack. I had to chomp my bottom lip to murder my chuckles. Sharyna let loose a mad laugh.

  “Pablo!” Tony raised his tones. “The ball!”

  “What ball?”

  “Pablo!”

  “I haven’t got a ball.” He picked it up from the footwell.

  “The ball, Pablo.”

  “No need to raise your voice, Tony,” Colleen said.

  Bursting into laughter, Pablo finally handed the ball over. Tony spun it around in his hands and squinted like he was thinking of the world’s hardest math equation. “It’s about time we introduced Naomi to my mum and dad,” he said.

  “Are you sure, Tone?” Colleen replied. Some sort of mad trauma filled her eyes.

  I wonder what that’s all about.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Tony said. “Besides, they haven’t seen Pablo and Sharyna for a while. It’s been weeks, if not a couple of months. Mum will be cussing.”

  “Does your dad even know about Naomi?” asked Colleen.

  This convo is getting interesting. I leaned forward.

  “Er . . . not yet,” Tony answered.

  “Don’t you think you’d better tell him?” Colleen pressed. “Tell him everything?”

  Tony turned around and looked at me. He grinned like an ice-cream man on a hot day. “Fancy seeing my parents?” he asked me. “They’d love to see you. My mum makes a serious cheesecake and she’ll spoil you crazy.”

  “They got Sky?” I wanted to know. “All the movie channels? A DVD player?”

  “Er . . . yeah.”

  “Can I bring a couple of my DVDs in case I get bored
?”

  “Er . . . not the X-rated ones,” Tony replied. “Especially that driller-killer one—I don’t know why we let you keep them.”

  “I do,” I laughed. “Cos if you took ’em away I’ll take away some of your stuff. And I always try to do good by Sharyna and Pabs.”

  Sharyna busted out a giggle before she slapped a palm over her gob.

  “Hmmm,” Tony replied.

  “Tone . . . Tone,” Colleen mumbled. The stress cells took over her forehead. What’s this all about? “Are you going to call your dad?” she asked. “Let them know we’re coming. I don’t want to turn up out of the blue and your mum has five more mouths to feed.”

  “I’ll call Mum when we get home,” Tony said. “It’s Saturday, so Dad will probably be at his allotment.”

  “Make sure you call him later,” Colleen said.

  “Granddad’s got a forty-eight-inch TV screen on the wall,” Sharyna said to me. “We can take our Wii and do our dancing.”

  “Sounds good,” I nodded. “Your grandparents are Jamaican, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are,” Sharyna replied.

  “Do they talk in a funny accent?” I asked. “There was this ancient Jamaican that my real dad used to go drinking with. He was on point and everything, always lending us funds for the gas meter and giving us milk, but I couldn’t make out a diddly what he was saying. It was sort of Irish, yeah, kind of dancehall, reggae-rapper Irish.”

  Colleen couldn’t resist that one and laughed out loud.

  “They have a bit of an accent, Naomi,” Tony said. “But you’ll be able to understand them.”

  “As long as your dad doesn’t start swearing in patois,” said Colleen.

  What’s pat raw? Maybe it’s some kinda Jamaican cussing that only Jamaicans understand. Cool.

  “I’ve had a word with him about that and so has Mum,” said Tony. “No bad words will come out of his mouth.”

  “I hope so,” said Colleen. She didn’t look too convinced. “Don’t forget to call your dad. If he’s not home then call him later on.”

  “Okay, Colleen,” Tony said. “I’m not going senile yet. I don’t have to be told twice or three times.”

  “Hmmm.”

  * * *