Toff Chav

by Miles Hadley

  There was a long pause; a moment of silence.

  ‘What’s gotten into you lately, Gaz?’

  ‘A lot has gotten into me lately, Sis,’ said Gary. ‘A lot. If you come with me down to the food bank, we’ll cook something nice and then I’ll tell you.’

  ***

  Gary and Sheila queued outside the Victorian gothic Anglican church hall. There were many others, Gary observed. There were elderly people speaking in older variations of his own cockney accent; the old, inner voice of London. There were others – people with regional accents from all over the UK. He could also hear foreign languages being spoken, and the differing sounds of people’s voices made him remember what Bollard had said. He was almost certain that he could feel the ghost of Bollard standing right behind him, whispering into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. The words were ‘It should all be “we”, young man.’

  Gary turned around and gave a frown. A woman in a hijab looked puzzled and smiled at him. He gave her a slight grin. He turned to his sister and smiled at her. She smiled back. His sister; his mother’s daughter.

  We’ll get sorted, won’t we, Mum? he thought to himself, before muttering under his breath and thinking again of Bollard, ‘Won’t we, nut job?’ He grinned wryly to himself. He heard Bollard react with the words, ‘Christine! He’ll be the end of us!’

  Perhaps for the first time since their mother had died, they sat down together in the kitchen and ate their simple supper. It was poached eggs with boiled potatoes and beans and carrots. Gary looked at Sheila.

  ‘Do you remember what Mum used to say? Without the family meal...’

  Sheila laughed and finished the sentence. ‘Our family would not be real!’

  They both shouted in unison, ‘And without good food to eat, our health would not be complete!’

  Gary raised his glass of orange squash to Sheila’s and they gave a toast to their mum.

  During the course of their meal, Gary told Sheila everything that had happened, including everything he could about Bollard. Sheila sat there entranced.

  ‘To think everyone just thought he was an old pervert,’ she commented.

  There was a knock on the front door. Gary got up and answered it.

  ‘Jamal?’

  Jamal looked like he had been crying. He appeared to be shaking, and yet it was not a cold evening.

  ‘Gaz,’ he said. ‘Can I come in? I don’t know where else to go.’

  ‘We’re just eating,’ replied Gary. ‘Have you eaten? Would you like anything?’

  ‘No. I just need to talk.’

  Gary and Jamal sat down in the sparsely furnished lounge. Sheila leant against the interconnecting door to the kitchen and listened.

  ‘It’s Mum,’ Jamal began. ‘She’s topped herself.’

  ‘Oh, mate, I’m so sorry…’ Gary gave him a hug and Jamal proceeded to sob. Hearing what Jamal had said, Sheila walked into the lounge and began to cry as well.

  Gary looked at her. ‘We’re just going to go out for a bit. Is that okay?’ Sheila nodded her head.

  He took Jamal to the place where he had always gone when he did not know where else to go.

  ‘Do you remember my mum?’ began Gary. ‘My mum knew your mum and they were good friends. Every time I come here, I sit and I watch... those people passing... going to a destination, and I always wish I could join them.’

  He looked at Jamal. ‘How can we join them, Jamal? How can we make our mums proud? How can we love who we want to love? How can we go where we want to go? It’s in us, Jamal. We have potential. It’s down to us to give a fuck.’

  Jamal simply looked at Gary, unable to speak.

  ‘Come to ours for dinner tomorrow,’ said Gary. ‘I’m worried about you, mate. I know I turned my back, but I need you to know that our door is always open for you. Truth be told, we’ve been trying to sort things out. I want to restore things. I’m fed up with our families, our community, being destroyed. I’m learning history, Jamal, and it’s changing me. It’s like an addictive drug; I’ve started on it and now I can’t stop. It’s not just for those in power; it’s for us, too. It’s a passport to power and to effect real change. There are so many questions to ask and answer. It gets me on a high… I don’t know why. I think maybe because it’s us. We are our history and, without being aware of our history, we are half the people we could ever be.’

  39

  God, it was shit. So bloody grey and gloomy. Even worse than what he had seen in pictures and on TV, or even imagined. The towering concrete blocks of flats seemed to block out the sunlight and cast dark shadows over the area. There was litter everywhere. There were some cars parked; a few were without wheels and were sitting on piles of bricks. One or two were burnt-out skeletal frames.

  Archie looked briefly at his minder, Kevin. He was not the sharpest tool in the box, but as long as he was large and burly, he decided it didn’t matter. He felt sure he heard Kevin mutter ‘Posh twat’ on more than one occasion, but it was always muttered in such a way that Archie thought he could have muttered something else.

  To Archie, Dermot gave the impression he was a bit reluctant to be there with him. Dermot looked at Archie.

  ‘You might have worn something a little less conspicuous,’ he said.

  ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ Archie reacted.

  ‘Your shirt, Rab jacket, jeans and boater shoes make you stick out like a sore thumb.’

  ‘I thought about that,’ said Archie. ‘But I assumed that, as we would have a minder like good old Kevin over here, we’d be okay. Besides, I’ve got all this expensive camera equipment to lug around. Kevin – you wouldn’t mind carrying this for me, would you?’ Archie passed him a tripod. ‘And Dermot, how about carrying my spare camera... thanks.’

  Archie heard a loud shout from one of the windows of the tower blocks.

  ‘FUCK OFF!’ the deep angry voice yelled. A beer bottle suddenly smashed about a metre from them, sending green glass shattering all over the pavement.

  ‘Jesus. That was a bit close,’ Archie said, slightly worried.

  ‘I think we’d better move on to the food bank,’ Dermot muttered.

  ‘Hang on,’ Archie said. ‘I’ll just take a shot of that council block.’

  ‘FUCK OFF!’ the angry voice shouted again.

  ‘Look,’ said Dermot, ‘I think it would be best if we moved on.’

  Another beer bottle smashed near them. This time, closer.

  ‘Should have brought hard hats,’ Archie commented. ‘I had no idea it would be quite this bad.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly going to be a Disneyland experience, now, was it?’ Dermot muttered.

  ‘Well, no, quite,’ Archie concurred. ‘So how many... of the poor... live on this particular estate?’

  ‘Several thousand people live here.’

  ‘Gosh, I had no idea the local authorities could fit so many into such limited space,’ replied Archie.

  ‘Well, that’s what the tower blocks are for,’ said Dermot.

  ‘And where do the poor go if they need... fresh air?’

  ‘Same as everyone else... outside.’

  ‘Oh. Poor... people,’ Archie muttered as he spotted a youth who he felt fitted into the ‘chav’ description perfectly. ‘Dermot’ Archie said. ‘Dermot! Look at him! He looks like just the type I’m after!’ Archie was by now quite excited. ‘Do you think he’d mind if I took some shots of him?’

  ‘Would you like me to go and ask him for you?’

  ‘That would be awesome if you would.’

  Archie wasn’t sure, but thought that Kevin might have rolled his eyes.

  As the youth approached them with Dermot, Archie thought that he looked so perfectly chavvy. Nike everything, and that baseball cap… Even the way he walked.

  ‘I might have just fou
nd you your guide,’ said Dermot.

  ‘Oh... great!’ Archie replied enthusiastically. ‘Mind if I take some shots of you? My name is Archie... pleased to meet you.’ He extended his hand out to shake with the chav.

  The chav, to his amazement, shook his hand and smiled a greeting. An inner city voice. Cockney, perhaps? Archie wondered.

  ‘I’m Gary,’ the youth responded.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Gary,’ said Archie. ‘Has Dermot explained the reason why I’m looking for a guide?’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Gary. ‘You want to highlight the lack of opportunities for the inner city poor with your photography.’

  ‘Yes... that’s... right.’ Archie looked at Dermot before continuing. ‘Are you able to show me around? So I can photograph people in your... community. I’d pay handsomely, of course.’

  ‘How much?’ Gary asked.

  ‘Five hundred quid?’

  ‘Done.’ Gary extended his hand again and they shook on it.

  ***

  ‘Polly, darling. I’ve just had the most amazing adventure today,’ Archie said into his mobile, while reclining on the faded sofa in the Hodgkin-Smith Chelsea residence. His grandpapa glared from above the fireplace.

  ‘Did you actually go there?’ asked Polly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, my God. That’s like so brave of you, Arch. Were there any disaffected youth?’

  ‘Oh yes. It was like seriously edgy. Someone threw beer bottles at us and we nearly got hit.’

  ‘Gosh. I asked a friend who has a flat near that estate. Apparently, all the crime and stuff that happens like burglaries are carried out by people from there. It’s meant to be a seriously notorious shit hole.’

  ‘I have some good news as well,’ said Archie.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I now have my very own SatChav!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have a guide, Poll. He’s a real chav, too. My very own SatChav!’

  Polly burst into giggles and snorted. ‘Archie! You are such a bastard at times.’

  ‘But you still love me, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Seriously, Poll,’ said Archie, ‘this exhibition is going to be incredible. I’m sure I’ll be able to get some good shots.’

  ‘Arch, you will take care, won’t you?’ asked Polly anxiously. ‘I don’t want you to get battered or something.’

  ‘It’s a council estate, Poll. Everything gets battered... even their food. All they eat is deep-fried pies and Mars bars and things.’

  There was loud laughter and a snort before Polly answered. ‘Archie, stop it! I’m going to cry in a minute.’

  ‘I’ve got Kevin, too.’

  ‘Who the hell is Kevin?’

  ‘My minder, Poll.’

  ‘I can’t think of any worse name to call a child than Kevin.’

  ‘It’s not as bad as Gary.’

  There was another loud laugh and snort on the other end of the phone.

  ‘You do know the term chav might have originated from my school, don’t you?’ Polly said.

  ‘Why? Does Gloucestershire have a surfeit of chavvy types or something?’

  ‘No. Seriously, Arch. It’s well known that the term chav could have started there. Do you know what it stands for?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘Council house and violent,’ said Polly seriously.

  ‘Polly,’ said Archie. ‘That’s pretty crappy that it came from your school!’

  ‘I know. It’s really embarrassing!’

  Archie then asked her how she was doing.

  ‘I’m job hunting, you know,’ Polly replied.

  ‘Really? What sort of job?’

  ‘Well... you know I mentioned the Liberal Democrats?’

  ‘Oh, Polly. Don’t start all this Liberal Smiberal stuff again. It’s the party of wet blankets, Poll. Nobody supports them unless they are a wet blanket.’

  ‘Well... Maybe I’m just what the party needs, then.’

  ‘What jobs did you apply for?’

  ‘One of their think tanks, and also a Parliamentary internship.’

  ‘You’re serious about all this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Aren’t you happy for me?’

  ‘Polly, you know I adore you and I will support you whatever you do. I wouldn’t even mind if you joined the Monster Raving Loony party for all I care, just so long as...’

  ‘As long as what?’

  ‘...it’s not Labour or some sort of Socialist thing.’

  ‘Archie Hodgkin-Smith, I am a Liberal and so I shall remain,’ said Polly. ‘I want to be known as a woman of principle. Whatever the obstacle.’

  ‘Poll... in that case, I’m proud of you and I’m sure you’ll get the job,’ replied Archie. ‘I want you to know that I shall stay by your side whatever the cause... as long as it’s not too lefty, that’s all. I’d like to inherit at least part of my Risely trust. I even have dreams of expanding it again, you know. Like Henry’s ambitions with Pulfret.’

  Polly laughed. ‘And no more talk of me being a mere chatelaine. I want to be known as a woman of substance, not some sort of airhead to go with the furniture. I want to make a mark. My own mark.’

  ‘And so do I, Poll, and with all my heart,’ said Archie. ‘We shall be great together. I in photography and you in politics. We’ll champion social issues. Risely, too, shall be great once more and we shall use it to host politicians, artists and other movers and shakers. The rooms will, once again, echo with the voices of the greats and our family shall be great again with them.’

  40

  Gary had agreed to meet Archie and his minder, Kevin, at the McDonald’s car park. He did not know what to really think of Archie. He seemed very posh, but not in the same way as Bollard had been. Bollard was a different kind of posh. An educated grandfatherly posh. Archie seemed to be slick and classy; old money posh. The sort of geezer he’d see in South West London and certainly not around his neck of the woods – unless Archie was being a rebel or was addicted to drugs or alcohol.

  He watched Archie as he approached him with his hand out and an ‘All right, mate?’ It sounded to Gary that the greeting was an overcompensation for the man’s poshness, that Archie was desperate to try not to sound patronising or condescending. As far as Gary was concerned, Archie managed to sound both at the same time. At least Archie had attempted to wear less conspicuous clothes this time. He wore a dark blue Ralph Lauren baseball cap, grey checked shirt, dark jeans and blue trainers.

  Gary noticed that the minder, Kevin, was smirking. He caught the smirk and gave him a brief one back.

  ‘Right,’ said Archie. ‘Where are we going to go first?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Gary replied. ‘Got anything in mind?’

  ‘Well, to begin with, I wouldn’t mind taking a shot of you sitting somewhere eating a burger.’

  ‘Okay. You get the burger. Where do you want me to sit?’

  ‘I don’t know...’

  ‘How about that rail over there?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Archie. ‘Kevin, you wouldn’t mind buying a burger for me, would you?’

  Kevin gave a sigh and shrugged his shoulders before going to purchase one.

  There were several minutes of awkward silence between Gary and Archie as they waited for Kevin to return. Archie began to fiddle with one of his cameras and pointed the long lens at a nearby lamp post to adjust the vision.

  Gary wasn’t sure if he should ask. It was a bit out of the blue. He waited for several more minutes while Archie continued to adjust his camera equipment. Finally, he plucked up the courage.

  ‘Do you like history?’

  ‘What?’ Archie appeared surprised at the question.

  ‘Oh, never mind,’ said Gary. ‘It wasn’t imp
ortant.’

  ‘Did you just ask me if I liked history?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Gary watched as a broad smirk spread across Archie’s face.

  ‘Mate,’ Archie responded, ‘I’m living history. My family go back centuries. History is in my blood. Oh look, here’s your burger now. Thank you, Kevin. Now... Gary... if you could just sit on the rail like this... that’s it... now bite into the burger and I’ll snap away.’

  ‘What period do you like?’ asked Gary.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I asked you what period of history you liked. What’s your favourite?’

  Gary heard Archie give a quiet chuckle from behind his camera. ‘Mouth in the burger please, mate. I want to take shots of you eating, not chatting. Do you think you could use both hands when you hold the burger and take a really big bite... that’s it!’

  Gary began to feel particularly annoyed.

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Archie. ‘Hold that expression as you bite! Excellent! It looks so real.’

  Once Archie had finished taking the pictures, Gary asked if there was anywhere else he wanted to go.

  ‘Yes, I’d like to go right into the heart of things...’ said Archie. ‘Right into the centre of your... area.’ Gary and Kevin the minder exchanged a look.

  Gary led Archie and Kevin to where he and Archie had first met. On the way, Gary once again asked Archie which was his favourite period in history. However, it seemed that Archie either ignored him or did not hear. Instead, he appeared too busy taking photographs as they made their way with Kevin to where he and Archie had first met.

  ‘You could take a picture of our community centre,’ said Gary.

  ‘But it looks closed.’

  ‘Yeah. Due to Government cuts.’

  ‘I don’t want to get too... political,’ said Archie.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Gary angrily. ‘The fucking cuts are destroying us. There is nowhere safe for young people to meet up anymore.’

  ‘Well, I suppose it depends which way you look at it…’ said Archie.