‘God, you’re such a drama queen,’ Mary said scornfully. Then, sighing, she said, ‘Right, I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t promise it’ll be much, ’cos I’ve got the wedding to pay for.’
‘You’re having a laugh,’ Chantelle gasped. ‘What’s more important, a stupid wedding or your kids?’
‘Oh, will you get off my fuckin’ back,’ Mary yelled, losing patience. ‘I’ve just told you I’ll be coming home soon – what more do you want?’
‘Money!’ Chantelle bellowed.
‘Get it off your dad,’ said Mary. ‘He’s another one who’s had it easy for too long.’
‘Oh, yeah, ’cos it’s that easy to get to Jamaica, isn’t it?’
‘Who said he was in Jamaica?’
‘You.’
‘Did I?’ Mary sounded confused. ‘I don’t remember saying that.’
‘Well, you should, ’cos it’s what you’ve been telling me for as long as I can remember,’ said Chantelle. ‘So, what are you saying now? Is he, or isn’t he?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ Mary said. ‘Last I heard he was in Moss Side.’
‘What?’ Chantelle felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. ‘You said he went home before I was born.’
‘Yeah, to his own house,’ said Mary. ‘Well, I wasn’t having him living with me. He did my bleedin’ head in, boring bastard.’
‘How could you?’ Chantelle gasped. ‘All this time I’ve been thinking he was in a different country, and you never told me any different. You’re unbelievable.’
‘Oh, I’ve had enough of this,’ Mary said snappily. ‘I only rang to tell you my good news but you’re obviously not interested. You never are – unless it’s about you, you self-centred bitch.’
When the phone went dead in her hand Chantelle tried to ring her mum back, only to find that the number was withheld. She screamed in frustration, threw her phone down on the bed and pummelled the pillow with her fists. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, although she didn’t know why she was so surprised, because this was just typical of her mother. She’d been lying to Chantelle her whole life, but now, just because it suited her, she’d landed a bombshell like this – and wondered why Chantelle was so pissed off.
Agitated, Chantelle jumped up and walked over to the window. If it was true, then her father had been living less than a mile away this whole time. So why had he never tried to contact her? They had always lived in this same flat, so he would have known exactly where to find her, but Chantelle had never seen him in her life. And that made him an even worse father than Glenroy, who had at least stayed in Leon’s life for the first few years.
As fresh tears began to sting her eyes, Chantelle rested her forehead against the cold glass. Was she really so unlovable that the people who had created her found it so easy to turn their backs on her? Leon was rude, disrespectful and downright defiant, but in their mum’s eyes he could do no wrong; whereas Chantelle, who always strived to be polite and helpful, just seemed to rub her up the wrong way. And now, despite everything that she had put Chantelle through, all the support that Chantelle had given her throughout her numerous failed relationships and drug-fuelled meltdowns, her mum claimed that Chantelle was the self-centred one.
But what was the use of letting it get her down? Her father obviously didn’t care if she was dead or alive, and her mum cared more about herself than she did about her kids. Maybe she should just give up and phone the social services now, before things got even worse.
Leon’s heart felt like it was on fire as, head thrown back, he belted along behind Damo and the gang who were running hell for leather across Alexandra Park. After walking around and around Moss Side for the last few hours, Acky had just spotted the lads they had been looking for going in through the side gates on mountain bikes, and they had to get to the fence that ran down the far side before the lads spotted them and made their getaway.
A narrow path separated the park perimeter from a school field, and it was hidden from the view of the park and the road beyond. Here the boys pulled their scarves up to cover their faces and hunkered down to wait.
‘Get over there and keep a lookout,’ Damo hissed at Leon. ‘Anyone comes, whistle.’
Head down, Leon shuffled off to hide at the side of the bush that Damo had pointed out, from where he could see both ends of the path and a bit of park through the fence. He was gasping hard, trying to catch his breath, but when he heard a squeak of brakes he inhaled deeply and held it in, then listened to the two boys talking quietly as they manoeuvred their bikes out onto the path.
The boys had barely had time to remount and get their feet back on the pedals when Damo and the others swarmed out from their hiding places, and Leon almost threw up with shock as he watched them drag the boys off their bikes and lay into them. He had heard the gang talk about fights they’d had, but this was the first time he’d seen them in action and it totally freaked him out. He’d had plenty of fights himself, at school and on the estate, but nothing as vicious as this. It was six against two, for starters, which didn’t seem fair. And they weren’t just using their fists and feet. Acky had found a thick branch and was lashing the lads’ bodies with it as they lay curled up on the floor, their arms wrapped around their heads to protect their faces. Everyone else was kicking and punching, and Leon buried his face in his arms when he saw the blood. He peered out for a second, and had to bite down on his sleeve to keep from crying out when he saw Damo pick up a rock and, after holding it high in the air with both hands, dash it down on one of their victims’ heads.
Leon saw a movement in the distance behind the lads and tried to whistle, but nothing happened because his throat seemed to have closed up. Unable to attract their attention any other way, he jumped up and started waving his arms.
It worked. Damo stopped what he was doing and looked around. When he saw the two men walking slowly towards them from the far end of the path, he hurled the rock as far as he could over the fence and then called his boys off. ‘Yo, leave it. Someone’s coming.’
As one, the lads started running the other way down the path, heading for the dual carriageway ahead. One of them grabbed Leon’s arm as he passed and hauled him along. As Damo sped past them all, Leon glanced back, wondering where Acky was, and was sickened all over again to see him sticking the boot into the side of one of the fallen lads’ heads before coming after them, even though both boys were clearly unconscious already.
The gang burst out onto the pavement at the end of the path and, dodging the traffic, ran across the busy carriageway. On the other side they hurtled around corners and ducked through a maze of alleyways, running without stopping until they reached the broken section of fence at the rear of the derelict pub they used as a hideaway.
‘Block it,’ Damo ordered when they had all squeezed through the pub’s back door and piled into the old kitchen area.
As two of the lads hauled an old sink unit up against the door, Leon slid to the floor to catch his breath and watched as Damo peered out through a hole in the metal sheeting covering the window. After several tense minutes, during which Leon was convinced that the gang must all be able to hear his heart thudding as loudly as he himself could, Damo exhaled loudly, and said, ‘All clear.’
‘Man, that was close,’ Acky gasped, sitting on an upturned box and pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘I well thought we’d been clocked.’
‘Yeah, well, we weren’t,’ Damo said, flopping down beside him and snatching a cigarette out of his hand. He lit up and took a deep drag, then laughed, and said, ‘That was mint! Did you see the way that rock bounced off the dude’s head? Like, BOOM!’ He slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘Out for the fuckin’ count!’
‘Hope he weren’t dead,’ Dubz, one of the two black lads in the gang, murmured worriedly. ‘I know his fam; they’ll be well gutted.’
‘Shame,’ Damo sneered.
‘He weren’t,’ Acky said, sucking loudly on his own smok
e. ‘I give him the boot before I left, and he made a noise.’
‘Shame,’ Damo said again, grinning slyly. ‘Would have been a buzz seeing that on the news.’
‘Fuck off, you’d have been well brickin’ it if we’d done for ’em,’ Acky sneered. ‘Anyhow, Big T only told us to rough ’em up, so you’re lucky we didn’t do them in, or you’d be in the shit big time, bwoy.’
Leon was sitting across from them with his back against a damp, peeling wall. As his breathing began to settle, he drew his knees up to his chin and gazed at the floor. He was really struggling to get his head around what had just happened, and he listened in silence as Acky and Damo bantered about which of them had done what. The others were all laughing, which made it seem worse, somehow. All except Dubz, who was sitting beside Leon with his own eyes downcast and a troubled look on his face.
Leon wasn’t the only one who had noticed that Dubz wasn’t involving himself in the banter. Acky had stopped talking and was staring at him. ‘Yo, what’s up with you?’ he asked.
Dubz raised his eyes slowly. ‘Nowt.’
‘Don’t look like it,’ Acky persisted. ‘You’ve always got a slap-arse face on you lately. If you’ve got a problem, why don’t you just spit it out?’
Dubz pushed his lips out and nodded several times, as if he was chewing it over, then said, ‘All right. If you really wanna know, I’m sick of settling Big T’s beefs.’
Acky gave a scornful snort. ‘Knew you was turning pussy. Told you, didn’t I?’ He nudged Damo. ‘Every time it comes on top, he’s always first to bottle it.’
‘I’m not bottling nothing,’ Dubz said angrily. ‘I just don’t see why we’re always taking orders from T, all of a sudden. He’s got his own crew; let them deal with it.’
‘They got more important shit to take care of,’ Damo informed him. ‘Anyhow, what’s the prob with us helping them out now and then? It’s good for our cred.’
‘How?’ Dubz demanded. ‘Come on, man, I’m serious. This ain’t doing shit but get us caught up in their battles. Rate we’re going, we’re gonna have G’s from all over Manc gunnin’ for us.’
‘And?’ Damo gave an unconcerned grin. ‘Least they’ll be knowing about us. Nowt worse than being part of a crew no one’s heard of and got no respect for.’
‘But that’s just it, we ain’t a crew,’ Dubz said, gazing steadily back at him. ‘We’re just mates who hang out together. We ain’t got no business to take care of, like the real G’s. We ain’t defending a patch, or running drugs, or nothing.’
‘No, but we soon will be,’ said Damo with confidence. ‘Soon as Big T sees we’re loyal enough to trust us with the bigger shit, he’ll set us up proper.’
‘Told you that, did he?’ Dubz gave him a doubtful look.
‘Not in so many words,’ Damo admitted. ‘But it’s obvious, innit? Why would he call on us all the time if he ain’t planning on bringing us in?’
‘Let me think …’ Dubz drawled. ‘Mebbe ’cos he knows we’re stupid enough to do his dirty work without axing questions.’
‘Yo! Who you calling stupid?’ Acky demanded.
‘I’m right, though, innit?’ Dubz stood up and brushed the dust off the back of his jeans. ‘He’s treating us like joeys, and we’re gonna be the laughing stock of the Moss if we keep rolling over every time he whistles.’
Acky sucked his teeth loudly. ‘Fuck you, man. I don’t roll for no one. We’re building cred here, and if you don’t like it, you can fuck off.’
‘Man, you’re deluded,’ Dubz said bluntly, looking Acky in the eye. Then, turning to Leon, he said, ‘You wanna get out while you still got a chance, kid. This ain’t for you.’
‘Aw, there he goes pulling the old race card,’ scoffed Acky. ‘See how he’s only bothered about the black kid? Talk about looking out for your own, eh?’
‘That don’t even come into it,’ Dubz argued. ‘He’s a baby, that’s all I’m bothered about. He don’t need to be getting tangled up in all dis bad-man shit.’
‘He ain’t no baby,’ Damo countered, grinning at Leon as he spoke. ‘Might be little, but he’s got heart.’ He clenched his fist and bounced the back of it on his chest. ‘Good little lookout, he is. Loyal. More than I could say for some,’ he added, switching his gaze back to Dubz.
Dubz looked from Damo to Acky to Leon. Then, kissing his teeth, he turned and dragged the sink unit away from the door.
‘Man best watch ’im back,’ Acky warned. ‘If’n him ain’t with us, ’im against us, innit.’
‘You sound like a knob,’ Dubz jeered, flashing Acky a dirty look before yanking the door open and strolling out.
Leon saw something on the floor where Dubz had been sitting and reached for it.
‘What’s that?’ Acky demanded.
‘A knife,’ Leon told him, standing up. ‘Dubz must have dropped it. I’ll go after him and give it him back.’
‘Fuck that,’ Damo snorted. ‘If he can’t look after his shit, he don’t deserve to have it. It’s yours. Put it away.’
‘You deaf, y’ muppet?’ Acky said when Leon hesitated. ‘He said put it away.’
Leon slipped the knife into his pocket. He liked Dubz, and appreciated the way he’d spoken up for him just now. But he also kind of liked the thought of having his own knife. He’d had one once before that he’d nicked from the corner shop: a tiny penknife with a pearl handle that doubled up as a nail file. He had thought he was the hardest kid on the estate with that knife in his possession – until it had snapped the first time he’d ever tried to use it. But there was no danger of this knife snapping, because this was the real deal. Heavy, with a cool black rubber-grip handle: a man could do some serious damage with a knife like this – and Leon already felt powerful just having it in his pocket.
9
‘Leave him alone!’ Chantelle screamed, struggling to break free from the policeman who was holding her arms behind her back. ‘Get off me! I need to help my brother!’
‘You know it’s for the best,’ the social worker said as she ushered Leon out onto the landing where a policewoman was waiting to escort him to the car that was parked below. ‘If you’d told us what was happening, we could have helped you. But you lied, so now we’ve got no choice.’
‘Nooooo …’ Chantelle wailed. ‘I can look after him! He’s my responsibility.’
‘He’s ours now,’ the woman replied firmly. ‘And so are you, so stop being silly and come along quietly, or we’ll have to—’
Chantelle didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Woken by the sound of heavy knocking on the front door, she jerked upright in her bed and swiped at her tear-soaked eyes. It was almost a week since her mum had called and there had been no word from her since – and no sign of the money that she had promised to send. Chantelle had resigned herself to the thought that they might never hear from her again, and was numbed by the realisation that their mum cared so little for them. But now she was having these horrible recurring dreams about Leon being taken into care, and it was killing her.
Terrified that it might be her mum’s dealer, Ricky, when another round of knocking echoed through the hall, she pulled on her dressing gown and crept out of her room. She jumped when the letter-box flap was pushed open and pressed herself back against the wall.
‘It’s E.ON,’ a man’s voice called through. ‘We’ve got a warrant to enter, so you can either let us in or we’ll break in. And if you try to obstruct us we’ll call the police. You’ve got two minutes to decide how you want to do this.’
Chantelle’s legs were shaking so badly that she thought she might collapse. But she knew she had no choice but to let them in. If they broke the door, she and Leon really would be in trouble because there was no way she could afford to have it repaired.
‘Mrs Booth?’ one of the two men who were standing outside asked when she opened the door.
‘No, she’s out,’ Chantelle told him quietly. ‘I’m her daughter. Can – can you come back later?’
‘Sorry, love, we’ve got a warrant.’ He showed her the paper he was holding and then flashed his ID card. ‘If you’re on your own and would feel safer having the police here, we don’t mind waiting outside till they come.’
Chantelle sighed and shook her head. ‘No, you might as well just do it,’ she murmured, stepping aside.
‘Sorry about this.’ The man gave her a sympathetic smile as he walked in. ‘I hate this part of the job, but there’s nowt I can do about it once it’s gone to warrant stage, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s all right,’ Chantelle said miserably, opening the meter-cupboard door for them. ‘It’s my mum’s fault, not yours.’
As his colleague quickly got to work ripping out the old meter and fitting the new one in its place, the man gave Chantelle the electronic card and explained how it worked. She nodded as if she was taking it all in, but her mind was reeling as he told her that the portion of the payment that represented the debt was to be set at ten pounds per week. On top of that, she would have to put in at least the same again in order to maintain the supply – and choosing to go without wasn’t an option, because missed payments would clock up a whole new debt, which would result in a new warrant, only this time it would be bailiffs who executed it.
‘And, believe me, they’re a lot less understanding than us,’ the man warned. ‘Proper heartless bastards, that lot – pardon my French.’
Thoroughly depressed by the time the men had cleared up and gone, Chantelle went into the kitchen and sat at the table with her head in her hands. The local free newspaper was lying in front of her, and when her gaze fell on it she had a sudden vision of her mum and Tracey sitting here indulging in the weekly pastime that they had used to enjoy: taking the piss out of the ‘sad bastards’ who posted in the lonely-hearts column. Those ads, she remembered, were in the same section as the job vacancies. But while her mum and Tracey had never been remotely interested in those ads, it occurred to Chantelle that a job might be the answer to all her problems.
Respect (Mandasue Heller) Page 9