Smack

by Melvin Burgess

  “All right, then.”

  He pushed his mattress across so he lay next to me and hugged me. He didn’t try to kiss me. Then he put his hand on my neck and I could feel his fingers slide down to my shoulder…

  I was watching him. I saw his eyes open and catch me looking at him and he closed them again, quickly. Then in a moment the fingers slid down a little further, down my waist, to my hips.

  That was my present, see. Me. I wasn’t wearing a stitch.

  Tar opened his eyes and smiled at me and I smiled back and said, “It’s a double. The sleeping bag.”

  “Oh…”

  The big oaf.

  “I’ve taken two bags and zipped them together.”

  He got out of bed and was just about to slide in next to me when I said, “Have you got anything?”

  “Oh…no…”

  It was such a pain. I was so cross. I sat up in bed and seized a cup of cold coffee I had by me. “Do I have to do everything?” I snapped, and started slurping the coffee.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so stupid.”

  Well…I suppose I should have supplied them. How was he to know? Still, Tar was never a Boy Scout, that much was clear.

  Then he said, “Hang on…” And he ups and outs the room with his jeans on and I thought…

  “Oh, no!” I knew what he was doing. He was going to borrow some off Vonny and Jerry. I was half amused, half furious…because, I mean, this was my first time. I didn’t want to use boring old borrowed anarchist condoms!

  And then he was away for ages. He must have been half an hour and then he came back quietly in case I was asleep, all sheepish.

  “Sorry…”

  “What happened?”

  “They were a bit reluctant to lend them.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you’re only fourteen, see, and…”

  I got the picture. There’d been a big discussion about whether Gemma was old enough. I was livid. I sat there and steamed. He was dithering around the room. He came and sat next to me and asked me if I didn’t want to any more. It was dreadful. This was exactly the sort of thing I’d wanted to avoid. I thought he’d discover me wearing nothing at all under my sleeping bag and it would just happen. Now he was sitting there in his blue jeans and I had my jumper back on, I’d got so cold waiting.

  I said, “Oh, never mind,” and I turned away and wrapped myself back up in my sleeping bag as if I wanted to go to sleep. I could feel him standing there for a moment, then he got into his. He lay close and cuddled up to me.

  Well. Sometimes you’ve got to work harder than you want to. I turned round and he kissed me and then he slid out and into my bag and he lay there very still for a bit, although I could tell he was really excited. He can be very tactful sometimes. We cuddled and it got very warm and then a bit steamy and pretty soon my jumper found its way up around my neck…

  Later on, Tar said in a little voice, “I love you.”

  And I said…

  Oh…I felt so sorry for him, but I hadn’t anything else to give him, you know? It was just a moment we had together. I mean, he was a really special person to me, but…I just felt that someone could come along and blow hard and I’d fly away from him, go in the wind and end up…next door or on another planet with someone else, anywhere. Just because the wind blew.

  I didn’t want to hurt him.

  I put my finger on his lips and I said, “Ssssh…”

  I could see him looking at me. He was hurt and I felt cross because I’d done my best. And what right had he got to love me?

  I said, “Don’t say that.”

  There was a long silence and then he said this funny thing…“Dandelion.”

  I just looked at him, it was so out of context. I said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He sort of smiled and shrugged and I smiled back because I realised…

  He’d given me a picture he’d done of a dandelion. It was a lovely picture. I didn’t know what the dandelion meant to him but I knew what he was saying. He was saying that he still loved me, even though…

  I wanted to say something to him…to tell him that I felt so much for him, even though I didn’t love him. I couldn’t say dandelion so I said, “Ladybird.” It just came into my head.

  He laughed and said, “Why ladybird?”

  I said, “Because they’re nice, and everyone likes them, and they’re pretty and red…” He began to kiss my mouth.

  “…and they like dandelions. A lot,” I said. I touched his nose with the tip of my finger, as if I was telling him off.

  Tar smiled and nodded.

  “Dandelion,” he said.

  “Ladybird.”

  “Dandelion.”

  “Ladybird.”

  And I really did love him in that moment, more than anyone, more than myself, even though tomorrow it might all be over.

  He kissed my mouth and we snuggled up as close as we could get.

  Richard

  Stop the city the city stinks

  No one know what the city thinks

  Stop the city and it’s an old man’s dream

  Stop the city it’s a shit machine

  Stop the city and liberate-a

  You wanna live a life and the city gets ya!

  Street life!—Yahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

  Street life.

  LURKY

  It was a stick-up. We were going to start with Barclays Bank on the High Street.

  For the occasion I dressed up in my GLUE YOU tee-shirt and a pair of bright green Doc Martens with daisies painted on the toes. I got Tar to do the daisies for me after I saw his dandelions. He’s brilliant. They looked great. I have such enormous feet. Oh, and my tight, calf-length leggings. I had to wear a parka over the tee-shirt though. It was a bit of a giveaway, really—GLUE YOU all over your chest and twenty tubes of Locktite in yer handbag.

  Vonny dressed up as well in a sort of yellow and black stripy leotard and woolly tights that made her look rather like an enormous wasp, only of course far more attractive. I couldn’t get Jerry to dress up at all, although he wore the blackest clothes he could find. But he always wears black. He dyes his hair, which is a start. I tried to get him to wear some black eye shadow or mascara, on one eye at least, but he wouldn’t until Gemma joined in. He let her do it for him and I have to say he looked rather menacing. I expect he would have let me do it, only he thinks I might be gay. I’m not, in case you were wondering. I just play up to it. In fact, I’m celibate. I have been for five years now. It’s not the sex I object to—it’s the politics.

  Gemma dressed up in her party dress and Vonny did her face for her like a forties film star—loads of powder and one of those Cupid’s bow mouths in shiny red lipstick. She wanted to wear a pair of high heels too but I had to veto it. Sometimes you have to run. As for Tar, he was willing enough but you could tell he found it hard going. Gemma wanted to dress him in drag, but it doesn’t do to attract too much attention. We let him off in the end. He obviously felt ludicrous enough as it was without having to look it.

  This is the way it ought to be. Not Bonnie and Clyde. Not gangsters and the IRA and BANG BANG BANG you’re dead…really dead. More like Robin Hood. I mean the Disney version.

  We got to Barclays and I went up to the door and wielded the superglue. That’s the easy bit—you just sidle up and go squirt squirt into the lock. By morning they’re LOCKED OUT and the money’s LOCKED IN.

  They hate that.

  It was writing the GLUE YOU logo on the door and the anarchist sign and getting the calling card through the letter box that was tricky. It takes time. Have you ever noticed that bank doors are always exposed? Try hiding in the shadows outside a bank sometime. There’s always a streetlight. They must have some deal with the Council.

  Actually it wasn’t that tricky. You just wait until no one’s looking, but it always got Vonny a bit nervous. Banks do that to some people. If she had her way we’d just do the glue and then scarper.

  You’ve no idea how
much I enjoy doing this sort of thing. I could hear Gemma giggling as I did THIS IS A STICK-UP in green chalk. It was a lovely giggle. It sort of floated out of the shadows into the night air and I wished I could post that through the letter box, too. I had to be content with my calling cards. They’re not bad, though. I do them at home on my stencil set and colour them in by hand. There’s a nice little picture on each one of a character from my Golden Treasury of Nursery Rhymes.

  YOU HAVE BEEN

  LOCKED OUT

  COURTESY OF

  LOCKTITE SUPERGLUE (ANARCHY IN THE UK INC.)

  I showed it to the crew before I pushed it in. Gemma giggled. Tar looked astonished. Vonny tutted and glanced up and down the road. Personally I’d quite like to be arrested but it hasn’t happened yet. Can you imagine what the police would make of us?

  Then I got a bit carried away finishing off the GLUE YOU logo, double colouring it with red chalk, and Vonny started pulling at me.

  “Come on, we’ve another fifteen to do,” she hissed.

  “We’ve got all night,” I said. But I put my chalks away and carried on up the road. No point in getting upset about it.

  Anarchy loves theatre. That’s the whole point. People forget that. You have to laugh at the devil, not fight him. They’ll always have more guns, they’ll always have bombs that go off with a bigger bang. No matter how revolting you become, they’ll always be willing to be even more revolting to you. They’ve had so much more practice.

  My tools are superglue and subversion. No one gets hurt, everyone has a good time, including the victims. They get the day off work. I never heard anyone complain about that.

  Vonny sidled up to me outside the NatWest on Chisem Street and hissed, “Jerry’s smoking.”

  I said, “Oh.” I mean, what’s new? “When is Jerry not smoking?” I enquired.

  “Yes, but he’s giving some to Gemma…”

  I said, “Oh, dear.”

  Vonny said, “What shall we do?”

  I said, “Play it by ear.” I posted my card and led the Outlaws up the road to Midland, three shops further down. I ask you. What do you need four banks for on one street?

  THE BRISTOL ANARCHIST COLLECTIVE

  INVITES YOU

  TO GO BACK TO BED.

  HAVE A GOOD DAY!

  Although we’re not really a collective, you understand. It’s just me and whoever I can get to come along with me on the night.

  To be quite honest, I didn’t care one little bit if Gemma was smoking a bit of dope. Frankly, I’d rather Jerry didn’t smoke on a stick-up. If we get caught it just confuses the issue. It’s the sort of thing that gives them an excuse, something to latch on to. You know—drug-crazed punk anarchists glue banks…

  But still, this is scarcely a military operation. And why shouldn’t he share it with Gemma? The reason why I said, “Oh dear,” was that Vonny was having problems with it. The usual sort of thing. Gemma wanted to do one thing and Vonny wanted her to do another. It’s called politics.

  I hate politics.

  Vonny walked alongside me.

  “She’s only fourteen, you can imagine the mess the police or the press would make of it.”

  “Corrupting the youth of the nation, you mean?”

  “Exactly.”

  I beamed. “But we are!”

  The trouble is that Vonny comes out on a stick-up because she really does think we are affecting the financial running of the area. She thinks people will lose their money, the economy will get into trouble, that sort of thing.

  Render unto Caesar, I say. I’m fishing for hearts and souls. The bank manager’s heart, the bank clerk’s, for Gemma’s and Tar’s, for Vonny’s…yes, and for yours, too. Go on—be a devil. Do your bit. Stay in bed today.

  ANARCHY PLC

  SUGGESTS YOU THINK AGAIN!!!

  We had a bit of an argument outside the Co-operative Bank. Jerry reckoned we ought to let them off because they were co-operative.

  “They’re still a bank,” I pointed out.

  They got glued.

  Gemma and Jerry were having a good time by the sound of it. I was actually getting a little nervous myself. Her giggles were getting slightly hysterical and she was beginning to trip over things rather a lot. Vonny was getting extremely annoyed. She was walking in front of them glancing angrily over her shoulder. I gathered that Jerry had ignored her wishes not to get Gemma stoned. Tar was with Vonny and they were engaged in an intense-looking conversation, which I was willing to bet was political, and about Gemma.

  Oh, dear.

  It gets in everywhere.

  When you walk down a high street in Bristol, you have so much going on around you. Butcher’s shops, for example. We were standing outside a butcher’s shop. I’m a vegan myself. It’s an issue. All around us the streetlights were blazing away, burning up the fossil fuels. Banks and insurance companies investing in death and disease. Chemists selling cosmetics that have been tested by being dripped in monkeys’ eyes. Plenty of opportunity for Vonny to spread a bit of political awareness.

  And overhead the stars. It was a lovely night. When you stepped out and lifted up your head and looked up above the roofs and the traffic and the people you could hear the wind blowing in among the roofs and the stars overhead.

  So what was Vonny doing?

  Bending Tar’s ear about Gemma.

  Just what he needed.

  Just the thing to endear him to us. Just what he needed after spending fourteen years being brought up by two monsters.

  Vonny is a lovely person. She’s ever so motherly, always bringing home stray cats and making biscuits and giving money to beggars. Always trying to make sure Jerry eats his veggies and washes his socks regularly and trying to make sure that things don’t go to your head and that you don’t giggle too loud.

  I love her but sometimes I suspect her of being a closet Communist.

  NO WORK TODAY…

  DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE

  DISAPPOINTED?

  You may think I’m being a bit of a prat. I am. But I do actually think that it’s just possible that one day enough people will start to think, Why am I having such a bad time so often, and why is it so important for me to give other people a bad time in order to make sure that I can carry on having a bad time myself?

  If I can get just a couple of bank clerks to start thinking they might as well stay in bed a bit more often, then I’ve done something to change the world. And if I can do it wearing enormous green boots with daisies painted on the toes, all the better.

  I have to say it wasn’t the most successful stick-up I’ve ever done. There were too many distractions. Vonny was livid by the time we got home and Tar looked as though he’d been gimleted with a blunt skewer. I must have a word with him.

  Gemma could barely stand up. Lovely life, isn’t it, sometimes?

  “How do you think her parents feel?” asked Vonny. “They were just keeping her in. It’s not like Tar, is it?”

  Well. The thing was, Vonny had a point.

  Gemma

  We were having a WILD TIME. Gluing the banks. Sharing the washing-up. Eating baked potatoes and beans for dinner every day. Wow.

  Nah…it was all right, really. I was thinking too much. You know—where’s the wild parties, where’s the street life, where’s the CITY?

  But then, Tar was having such a great time, that’s what made it all right. Honestly, I think he was in heaven. He liked everyone. He adored Richard. He even liked Vonny though she was obviously an enemy.

  And, of course, he had me.

  We could stay up as late as we liked and get up when we wanted. We could be together all day and all night. And I have to admit, it was pretty good. If Tar hadn’t been there I wouldn’t have lasted the day. But he was. So.

  Since he had no money and they were feeding him, Tar had been doing the house up. Richard got his hands on several gallons of cream paint and Tar was getting up at nine every morning and slapping it on, room after room in a disgusting p
ale glub colour. Of course I was a dependant too. I hadn’t let on about my hundred pounds, no way—so I had to help him. I soon put a stop to the nine o’clock in the morning bit, though. We got up about midday. We spent the morning splashing about in bed and the afternoon splashing around in paint.

  Since we started sleeping together I fancied him like mad and we kept having to stop to have a cuddle and a grope. Whenever I undressed I had painty fingermarks ALL OVER!

  Tar’s great company. He must have thought about everything at some point or other, because he’s always got something to say. But he always listens. He stands there frowning with the effort of trying to work out what he’s missed, as if it’s all his fault and not just me saying something stupid, which it usually is. And he’s funny. I mean, he likes my jokes. We were falling around laughing half the time. We just got on together so well.

  On the other hand he always had some annoying habits. I thought he was overdoing the being helpful bit. As far as I was concerned, all right, they were feeding us but we were working for our keep. It wasn’t just our own room we were doing. But Tar was so pathetically grateful and guilty, he spent half his time rushing about doing jobs for them, cooking, cleaning up, you name it. But the other thing—the thing that really got up my nose—were the endless discussions about Gemma.

  It was Vonny who was behind it, of course. She was so bothered about deciding what was the right thing and then making sure someone else did it. She was the same with everyone, actually. She was always on at Jerry to do something—open more squats with Richard or clean the kitchen or make their bed or do the laundry. She didn’t have much luck there; all he wanted to do was sit around and get stoned. She had better luck with Tar. That got up my nose worse than her getting at me. He loved it, of course. She only had to ponder aloud what to do for dinner tonight and he’d be on his feet begging to be allowed to rush round the shops with the shopping bag. Gratitude wasn’t the word. It was humiliating. As if he wanted another mother…he’d only just got rid of the last one.