by Jules Grant
She walks behind me, holds me by the arm, punches me full-on in the right kidney and the pain makes me go light-headed. I turn round, bollock-naked, smile, pretend I never felt a thing. Temper, temper, I say.
I manage to walk to the cell without limping, screw on each side and killing where she punched me, but to be honest I feel good. Throw down the gauntlet or throw in the towel, one or the other, but never stand around waiting for something to happen, Dad used to say. Start that caper Donna, your life’s not your own.
Women line the hall for a look and I stare them out. First-timers don’t always know how things work, walking on to a wing with their head down, thinking it’ll keep them out of trouble. Big mistake. There’s only one thing that keeps a girl out of trouble in this place, and that’s looking like a shit-load of trouble yourself.
I have to say though, I’m impressed. There’s always a higher quality of woman on a wing than in a guard-house and this place is no exception. The tall dark one with the pixie face, leaning on her door, looks up as I go past. I give her a wink, clock the cell number, Laters.
Down the corridor the screw pushes open the door and nods me in, sarky. I guess your sort won’t mind sharing?
That’s original. You must be the one with the City and Guilds.
I look over at the far bunk. Weird skinny little thing with a face like Gollum, eyes like big saucers and wisps of hair standing up on her head, looks right back.
And credit me with a bit of taste, I say, I don’t fuck just anybody. Pervert.
As it turns out, Gollum’s fairly cool. Not that I’ve changed my mind about fancying her. I’d trust her with my stash but I know men I’d shag before I’d kiss Gollum on the lips. Let’s just hope it never comes to that.
Once the screw leaves I kick my boots off, lie down. Got stuff to do.
I look over at Gollum, introduce myself.
Just killed three dickheads, I need a sim card, I say.
35
I’ve been in police stations before but not this one.
Shantelle rings the bell on the counter, gives me a hard squeeze and a kiss on the head, then she’s gone. She doesn’t smell like Mam, but she still smells nice.
I stand in front of the counter, look up at the big glass screen. All I can see is the tops of some heads.
Then a Ginga with freckles and glasses opens the flap, looks down at me and smiles. Alright there my love? What’s up?
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say so I say nothing.
She disappears, then a door opens at the end and she’s in front of me with a man, a Baldy. They open a door behind me and we go into a room with no windows.
She sits me at the table and they sit opposite me. OK sweetheart, she says, take your time. Can you tell us what’s happened?
To be honest I can’t really believe Shantelle left me here instead of somewhere safe, but I’m not about to grass her, being how she let me watch TV and brought me M&Ms and looked so sad all the time. I look them straight in the eye. No comment, I says.
They look at each other, smile.
It’s not an interview love, says The Ginga. We just need to know who you are. We just want to help.
She turns to The Baldy One. Try the beat officer, Mike. Someone must know her.
After a bit Baldy comes back in with a can of Coke and a cup, krinks his nose at me, smiles. Sorry love, he says, no straws.
I’m not a baby, I say.
I can see that, he goes. What school do you go to?
There’s no way I’m telling them what school I’m at, what’s the point? I’m never going back there. School’s a total waste of time when you’re my age, just leaves you no time to look after yourself.
No comment.
To be honest I don’t think I can tell them anything. If I tell them about Nan they’ll send for the Social. If I tell them about Mam, or Lise, or Donna, they’ll still send for the Social. If I tell them about The Christine One and Fatso and the biting, then they’ll totally lock me up. Probably forever. And I can’t tell them about Shantelle and climbing out of the skylight after Daz went to work. I promised Shantelle and even though I wouldn’t have if I’d known she was bringing me here, I can’t go back on it now. Sometimes all a girl’s got is her word, Donna says.
I hum the song in me head then I get an idea. They can’t lock me up for wanting to see Father Tom can they? Not when he’s a priest.
Can you get Father Tom please? I says.
I don’t know Father Tom love. Who is he?
Are they stupid?
You know, at the church. He’s the priest.
They look at each other. Appropriate Adult, says The Ginga. Just in case.
Everything moves pretty fast after that. Next thing I’m in a room full of toys with a mirror and no windows and the man has gone. A new woman who says she’s called Sally sitting beside me.
The Ginga points to a TV on the wall. It’s a camera, she says. Takes pictures of everything we say and do so we can remember it all. OK love?
I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about so I just shrug. No skin off my nose.
The Sally One asks me how old I am, what me name is, who me Mam is. Stupid things. I don’t tell her.
Then she asks me what I like to play with.
I don’t play with anything, I’m not a baby.
You asked me to do something, says The Ginga, when we were in the other room? Can you remember what it was?
Donna’s right, I don’t know how they ever catch anyone they’re that stupid. Can’t you remember? I say.
I can. I’m just wondering if you do.
She’s talking rubbish now. Best not to say anything.
Can you say it again for me love? What you said before?
I say it slowly for her. I. Said. Can. You. Get. Father. Tom?
I’ve obviously hit the jackpot because her eyes totally light up and everything. Do you mean Father Thomas Doherty from the Sacred Heart?
At last.
Can you tell me what he’s done, love?
Done? He’s done loads, I says. He’s always doing stuff.
I don’t really want to say what the best thing is that I know he’s done, because it makes me sound like a right baby, me wanting him to give Mam a message and him singing You Are My Sunshine just for me. I think of Sunita Clegg’s face and a shudder goes through me. I’d never live it down.
I can’t, it’s a secret, I says.
Did Father Tom tell you that you had to keep it a secret?
I shrug. We just agreed. It’s our secret.
Sometimes grown-ups tell us to keep secrets that we shouldn’t really keep.
I don’t really know what to say to that. What like?
I can’t tell you that. I need to know your secret first, yours and Father Tom’s.
Now I know for deffo she’s stupid.
Well I can’t tell you can I? That’s what a secret means.
I’m sorry love, but it’s really important you tell us what he’s done first. We can’t go arresting someone without knowing what he’s done. If you tell us, we can do something about it. I promise he won’t be able to get to you if you tell me.
Arrest him? Get to me? She’s as barking as The Wiz, this one.
Look, I say, he only does nice things.
She tips her head, does a weird little half-smile, takes a deep breath.
Sometimes we think things are nice when they happen but they really aren’t and they can leave us feeling bad, she says. We have to think really hard about how they make us feel and if it’s bad, we have to tell someone.
Now she’s doing me head in and I’m wishing I hadn’t said a dicky. I look round the room but there’s no way out without going right past them. Maybe I’ll be stuck in here forever unless I can work out what she’s after, and every little thing I say seems to make it all worse.
It’ll feel better if you talk to me, love, I promise.
You’re OK thanks, I’ll leave it, I says.
; 36
I might never be going home, Christine says.
If I behave myself and don’t run away and don’t be rude and don’t be all nowty, they’re going to find me a Forever Family.
What’s one of them? I ask her.
It’s a family that will love you and look after you forever, she says.
No ta, I don’t need another one, I’ve got one already, I says.
To be honest one is enough trouble as it is. I don’t know how I’d cope with two.
She tells me that’s not how it works, and I’d have the Forever Family instead of the one I’ve got now.
What? Like a straight-on swap?
Sort of, she says.
Can I choose them?
Not really, she says. They choose you.
How do I know I’ll want to swap all mine if I don’t know what I’m getting instead? I ask.
She doesn’t say anything and I don’t want to look ungrateful.
I don’t think so. Thanks though, I says.
After The Chat I go out the front into the garden. Loads of trees and a rope swing, climbing frame and a slide. The babbas are in the sandpit by the hedge.
Why don’t you go over and play with Sarah? says Miss.
I pretend I can’t hear, sit down by the tree, even though the grass is still wet from the rain and turns me bum cold. Me head’s going bizzy again so I bang it back on the tree trunk. Not hard, just enough to stop the bizzing.
One two three, One two three, One.
When the bizzing stops I start wondering what Nan’s doing. I daren’t ask for Father Tom again, seeing how it just sent them all loop. I don’t know why but everything went mad after that and I ended up here and now they won’t let me see anyone sound.
I can’t see Nan, Christine says, because she can’t stop drinking and that makes her An Alcoholic and even though she knows Nan loves me it’s Too Risky. I can’t see Mam, obviously, because she went and died and left me. I can’t see Kaheesha and Sanjay because I ran away once and even though I promised I wouldn’t do it again Christine says that’s not enough because I’ve made it Too Risky as well. And I can’t see Donna or Lise or Sonn or Rio because they’re not Proper Family, she says.
They are, I tell her. Donna’s me God-Mam.
She says that doesn’t count. Good job Mam and Father Tom can’t hear her say that.
I can’t even see Geet because it’s Not Appropriate, so that just leaves nobody.
Christine’s got a little painted Mr Nobody box plus a box for everyone I know with their names stuck on, a little slot on the top. When she gets them out I have to write things down and post them through the slots. For Feelings.
I just make them up in case it’s a trick. If she thinks some stupid game is going to make me grass on everyone in the world she’s got another think coming.
I think about the Forever Family and me heart starts thumping and me head goes bizzy again. Donna and Lise will probably definitely be coming for me, but they’d better hurry up by the sounds of it or who knows where I’ll land up.
I go over to the sandpit and take the red bucket off baby Rosie, lob it over the hedge which sets her off whingeing. Crybaby, I hiss. Mard-arse.
I look over to the house but there’s nobody looking. Only Miss bending down at the flowerbed doing the weeds. I get hold of Rosie’s ear at the edge and pinch it hard so she squeals. I know it’s wrong and I feel bad even while I’m doing it, but sometimes you’ve got to do a little bad thing, to stop a bigger one happening.
Miss comes trogging over in her crocs, bends down to Rosie, picks her up, sees the red on her ear and rubs it. Oh you bad girl Aurora, what’ve you done?
Me Miss? Nothing Miss.
She takes Rosie inside and I go back to the tree. That ought to do it. We’ll see what Forever Family wants me now.
I’m about to throw the spade over after the bucket when I hear a low whistle from behind the hedge, two short and one long, like me and Donna used to do.
The hedge is thick with wire net behind and I can’t see anything through it but someone’s feet and the road.
I run to the gate but it’s locked and I can’t see over it.
I run back to the hedge.
It’s me sweetpea, whispers Lise. Can you get over?
The gate’s locked, I whisper.
Look round lovey. Is there anything you can climb on?
I look, but there’s nothing. I run back to the gate and mess with the padlock, but it’s fast shut. I can hear her on the other side and me heart’s hammering.
Lise! Don’t leave me!
I won’t. Stand back and I’ll kick it.
Then she must have given it a proper Karate Kid because the whole gate nearly comes off its hinges it crashes back so fast. Then Lise is standing in front of me with weird curly ginger hair and a bob hat on. I think me heart’s going to jump out of me chest I’m so happy to see her.
She grabs on to me hand. Then I hear shouting behind me and we’re running, running, running, me nearly pulled off me feet.
At the corner I see the car with both doors open and the engine going. Lise pushes me in the back and slams the door. Then she jumps in the front and we’re off.
I look over me shoulder out of the back window, see Miss and Christine, standing in the road, looks like they’re shouting. I give them a wave.
Oh My Giddy Aunt says The Driving One, and then Lise and her are both squealing, laughing. The Driving One looks over her shoulder at me, pulls the scarf from her head, gives me a smile. It’s Geet’s Mam! I’m not kidding, I never been so pleased to see anyone. Ever.
When we come off the dual carriageway Geet’s Mam pulls over. Lise goes round and gets some stuff from the boot. She gets in again and passes some clothes over to me. A pink cardy and blue jeans.
Pink? I goes.
Don’t mess me about Ror, she says, put them on.
Then she passes me a wig with a yellow pigtail. Make sure you tuck all your hair in. Your name’s Josie. I’m your Auntie Jane, she says.
37
The sinks have all got mirrors and the light is so bright I have to squint.
I’ve had a wee, washed me hands with all the squirty soaps and had a go of all the blowers to see which is the best. Not much in it.
I lean against the wall and wait. The queue goes long and then short and then long again and the door in the corner’s still locked. I go over.
Lise? What you doing?
The door opens quick, and she pulls me into the cubicle, shuts the door behind me, locks it, tells me to sit.
She’s got no top on, just a bra. There’s a bandage wrapped right round her middle and then she’s got hold of the long end in one hand. I sit down on the toilet.
What you doing?
You’ll see, she says.
After a few more wraps round her middle, she bends down to the bag, gets out a brown paper packet, tears it open. Money. Whole blocks of the stuff in elastic bands, tons and tons of it.
Dingers. Is that money?
Shhh, keep your voice down, she says.
She puts a block of money at her middle then wraps the bandage over it and right round. Puts another one next to the first and wraps it again.
After a while all the money is packed up under her T-shirt and she pulls her top down. She looks well fat and I giggle.
Not a word, OK? It’s for spends. If anyone stops us, pretend you can’t speak. Don’t say anything.
Then I must’ve looked scared because she leans over, squeezes me knee. Majorca. We’re going on holiday, don’t worry, she says.
All that money just for spends? I ask her.
It’s a long holiday, she says.
Out in the concourse the tiles are marble and shiny, noise everywhere. People rushing and pushing, dragging cases on wheels, the tannoy going non-stop. I try to follow Lise through the crowd, trip over a case. She pulls me up by the arm, Watch where you’re going love, keep up.
I want to ask her to slow up but t
hen I see them, the police. Lined up against a glass wall, dozens of people filing past. Out at each side there’s one with a gun, the kind you need a strap and two hands to hold up. And Lise, pushing through the crowd, she’s dragging me, heading right for them. Lise!
She’s not listening, just drags me harder, Come on.
We get closer and through the glass I can see big machines. Eating people.
Lise! I pull me arm free and she stops. She follows me eyes. It’s alright, she says, just metal detectors. Passport control.
The police though, I say.
It’s OK, she says, they’re special ones, always here. Airport police. They’re not looking for us, it’s too soon.
As we get closer I see the machines are just big gates and the people go through one by one, come out the other side in one piece, no problem.
Lise puts the passports and tickets on the high counter and the man looks at them, then looks down at me. I hold me breath.
And where do you think you’re going young lady?
I look at Lise and she nods, He means the holiday.
Majorca? My voice is a squeak.
He nods, smiling. Smashing there. You have a lovely holiday sweetheart, he says, then he gives me a wink. Then he gives Lise the passports, waves his hand and we join the queue for the machines.
Take your shoes off, says Lise, put them in the tray.
When we get to the machine Lise puts her bags on the first tray and it jolts forward, disappears inside. I’ll go first, she says, you wait then walk through.
She walks through a metal gate and out the other side. The woman in a uniform waves her past. Then it’s my turn.
I step through the gate and there’s a noise like a Ding.
Hang on love. The woman holds me by the arm, pulls me over to the side. Another woman comes up, a black stick in her hand. Lift your arms up, she says.
I look round for Lise but I can’t see her. My heart thuds so loud in me ears I can’t hear anything else.
Duhduhduhduh says the woman with the stick, her lips moving. Then she lifts me arms up and out, runs the black stick across them and me hearing comes back.