by Kit de Waal
The Zebra warned him. Sylvia must have complained to her. He thinks about all the things he has stolen and what he will say. He tries to think of clever answers but all the time he wants to go to the toilet and he can’t move. Sylvia has sent them to lock him up. The men are close now. Leon drops his bike. People are staring at the men, Mr. and Mrs. Atwal and Mr. Devlin and everybody working at the allotments, because they aren’t keeping to the path and some of them are walking on people’s plants.
Leon takes his pack off and holds it in front of him. He’ll say sorry and give everything back. He feels the pain in his chest again and wishes he was the Incredible Hulk and he could fight them all and run away. But the men walk straight past him and surround Castro and Tufty.
One of them is the leader. He has a leather jacket and a thin mustache with a leather belt under his belly. He’s smiling at Tufty.
“Linwood Michael Burrows? Long time no see. Never took you for a Percy Thrower.”
Three of the other men have gone into the shed and Leon can hear things being thrown around. The whole shed seems to be moving. Another man is walking around, treading on things and kicking stones.
“And Earl Parchment, aka Castro. Either of you two fancy helping us with our inquiries, to coin a phrase?”
Tufty says nothing but Leon watches him move his feet apart. He sees Tufty make his lips small like he’s trying not to let the words out and Leon knows exactly how he feels. Castro opens his arms wide.
“You blood-clat, Babylon! You beast boys can’t come in here for we. You don’t have nothing on we.”
“Sorry?” says the man. “Didn’t catch that.” He takes a step back and looks around. All the people in the allotment are looking over.
“DC Ronald Green, Springfield Road police station, folks,” he shouts. “Nothing to worry about. A driving matter.”
The other policemen start to laugh and DC Green puts his finger to his lips and says, “Sssshhhh.
“Now,” he continues, “it so happens, I’m not looking for either of you this time. Where’s Rainbow? That’s what I want to know. He’s your mate, isn’t he? Your ‘brethren,’ your ‘spar,’ your ‘idrin.’ That’s the lingo, isn’t it? And as for you, Castro, my little carrot head”—he pushes Castro in the chest—“don’t come with any of your blood-clat bullshit here. I don’t like it.”
Tufty holds Castro’s arm. “Leave it, Castro, man. Leave it.”
“Yeah,” says the policeman. “Listen to your reasonable friend. He likes the quiet life, just like his old dad. Does as he’s told. Don’t you, Tufty? Always just a bystander, aren’t you? Perhaps your balls haven’t dropped yet, is that it?” DC Green pretends to shudder. “That’s an image I don’t care to dwell on. Anyway, as I was saying, we’re looking for Rainbow. Or, as we know him, that shit-stirring windbag with the tea cozy on his head, Darius White. Where is he?”
There are five policemen in all. Leon counts them but none of them are wearing police uniforms like the lady who gave him the doughnut when Maureen was taken to the hospital.
“He’s done nothing,” says Tufty.
“Oh? That’s not what I hear. There was a disturbance on Carpenter Road a few nights back, incited, I do believe, by the ever-eloquent Rainbow. We heard he was leading a pack of you all right down the middle of the road, chanting and spear-chucking and war-dancing. He was shouting something. What was it now?”
DC Green looks around at the other policemen.
“Down Babylon,” one of them says and they all laugh again but it’s not real laughing.
“That’s it! Down Babylon. Yes, he had posters and placards and everything. Learned to write at Her Majesty’s pleasure, so I understand.”
Castro spits on the ground.
“Yeah, Rainbow speaks for all of we.”
“Then you were there, eh, Castro?”
They surround Tufty and Castro until Leon can’t see them anymore but he can hear Castro shouting in fast West Indian. Mr. Devlin is standing close. He beckons Leon toward him, so he runs over and Mr. Devlin rests his hand on his shoulder. Then the fighting breaks out. Leon’s glad that he’s standing by Mr. Devlin because of the Kanetsune. He’s seen Mr. Devlin using it and, although he doesn’t look strong, Leon knows that he really is and he could chop down people just like he chops down bushes and trees. Three of the policemen grab Castro; he starts to buck and struggle but he can’t get free. DC Green stands back and shoos everybody away.
“Resisting arrest. Nothing to see. Off you go. Off you go.”
It takes four police officers to drag Castro out of the allotments. He’s shouting and fighting and twisting his body. One of the policemen has his arm locked round Castro’s neck and Castro’s trying to pull it off. Spit comes out of Castro’s mouth like he’s a wild dog. One of his shoes comes off. His jeans are pulled down to his ankles and DC Green is smiling all the time and tightening the belt on his trousers.
Tufty is shouting, “Leave him! Leave him! He can’t breathe!” But DC Green points one long finger and holds it against Tufty’s chest, prodding and poking with every sentence.
“Excitable, isn’t he, your mate? Whereas you’ve always been sensible, up to a point. Now, if you’d like to save him a couple of nights in the cells and yet another offense on his rather dense list of priors, you could tell us where to find Rainbow.”
Tufty takes a step away from the policeman. Everyone is watching Castro being dragged away but not Mr. Devlin and Leon. They are watching Tufty. He goes into his shed and he comes out with a shovel. He holds it like a sword right up in DC Green’s face then slams it into the ground. It slices through the wet earth just in front of the policeman’s toes. It judders back and forth and then stands dead straight.
“This is my land,” says Tufty. “My piece of the earth. My fucking land.”
DC Green puts his hands in his pockets and laughs. He throws his head back and laughs so loud that all the fat on his belly wobbles.
“Oh, dear me, Linwood. Something rattled your cage, has it? You all make me laugh. You’re all the same with your big mouths and your big lips and your ‘pussy’ this and ‘ras-clat’ that. But when it comes to it . . .”
He kicks the shovel and it falls to the ground.
“Spades don’t scare me, Linwood. Not one bit.”
The policeman walks slowly away, kicking a stone in front of him and whistling. Nothing happens for a few minutes then Tufty looks straight at Mr. Devlin. He opens his arms wide, splays his fingers.
“What? You got something to say? I didn’t invite them in here. Don’t say nothing, all right? Don’t open your fucking mouth.”
He picks the shovel up, goes inside the shed, and throws it down. Everybody goes back to their gardening except Mr. Devlin. He looks at the mess that the police have made of the path. He looks at the plants their black boots have trampled.
“They’re the same all over the world,” he says. “Small minds, big feet.”
He walks away.
Leon has been told over and over always to ask a policeman for help but these policeman didn’t even have uniforms on and they didn’t give Castro a chance. Leon walks over to Tufty’s shed and looks inside. Tufty is sitting on a stool, picking up pieces of paper. All his posters have been ripped off the wall. The man with the fist and the Black Power has had his head ripped off. Tufty’s seeds and little baby plants are in a terrible mess on the floor.
“Don’t come in here,” he says and his voice is sharp like he is still talking to the police. “Can’t you see it’s all a mess? Don’t walk in here with your shoes on. I have to see what I can save.”
But most of the plants are broken or stamped on. All the pictures are torn. Tufty picks one up and shows the pieces to Leon.
“You see this man? He says we mustn’t fight. Says we can all live in peace. Says don’t cause no trouble.”
Leon can only see half a black man’s head.
“Yeah? You see him? Well, they killed him. Yeah, shot him dead.”
Tufty stands up suddenly and looks around, kicking the plants and the torn posters and slamming his stool against the wall and flinging the plastic pots all over the place and making even more of a mess than before. When he stops, he’s panting.
“Let me tell you, Star. Stand up for yourself. All right? You see me?” He stabs himself in the chest with his finger. “I try, you know. I try hard. Keep my head down, don’t cause no trouble. It’s how I was brought up but sometimes—” Tufty kicks the side of the shed so hard that one of the planks comes loose.
“Go home,” he says.
Leon backs away, picks up his bike, and pedals home to Sylvia.
But at bedtime, Leon can’t sleep. He doesn’t want to be in his room on his own and he creeps along the hallway and pushes the door open a little bit. Sylvia is in the sitting room watching one of her programs. He can hear her shouting the answers louder than usual. She’s drinking her favorite dark brown beer with the white foam and laughing when she gets the answers wrong.
“Blankety Blank!” she shouts or “Tiebreak!”
Leon opens the door wide and Sylvia turns around.
“Five minutes, you!” she shouts. “Bed at the end of this.”
They watch until the end of the program, then Sylvia herds him back to his room. She stands in the doorway while he gets into bed.
“What’s up?” she says.
“I saw some policemen today and they were fighting with two black men.”
“Well, as long as you keep out of trouble you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Can you tell me about the rabbit’s adventures?”
“What?”
Sylvia sits down heavily on Leon’s bed and flicks her cigarette ash into the palm of her hand. “Rabbit?”
“The one with the permanent wave.”
Sylvia laughs so hard that she can hardly breathe. She takes ages to stop and then she goes to the bathroom and flushes her cigarette away. She comes back and takes a deep breath.
“Right. Rabbit. Let me see.”
She’s smiling now and Leon can smell the beer on her breath; he sees how she’s trying to sit up straight.
“All right. Well, the rabbit ran off into the woods. He’s still waving but obviously the man and the woman have gone now, so he’s just waving at the other animals. He waves at a squirrel and the squirrel waves back. He waves at a beaver and a weasel and, what else, a badger, yeah, a badger, and they all wave back and they say to themselves, ‘Wow, what a really friendly rabbit.’ So word gets around in the woods that there’s this nice little rabbit going about and everyone starts looking out for him. Anyway, he gets into the middle of the woods and, he sees a bear. And he waves at the bear and the bear calls him over. ‘How you doing?’ says the bear. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,’ says the rabbit. ‘Do you like it in the woods?’ asks the bear. ‘Yeah, it’s great,’ says the rabbit. ‘No problems?’ asks the bear. ‘None, no,’ says the rabbit. ‘I’m A-one okay.’ ”
Sylvia is a little bit drunk.
“The bear says, ‘That’s great. I wonder if I could ask you a question.’ ‘Fire away,’ says the rabbit. ‘Well,’ says the bear, ‘you know when you go to the toilet, for a number two, how do you get the shit off your fur?’”
Leon starts to laugh.
“‘The shit?’ asks the rabbit. ‘Yeah,’ says the bear. ‘Do you find it difficult to get the shit off your fur?’ ‘No,’ says the rabbit. ‘It comes right off.’ ‘Great,’ says the bear and he picks up the rabbit and wipes it over his arse.”
Leon and Sylvia lie on the bed together, rolling from side to side.
28
Sylvia wakes him up early the next day. The skin on her face looks even more creased than usual and her eyes are hardly open.
“Rough, rough, rough,” she says as she sits at the kitchen table.
“Are you pretending to be a dog?” Leon asks, smiling.
She looks at him and points at the kettle. Leon fills it and flicks the switch. Then she points at her handbag and he passes it to her. She digs around inside and then shoves it across the table and puts her head on her arms.
“Your fault, this is,” she says. “You and your bloody social workers booking themselves in at half past bloody eight.”
Leon finds her cigarettes, takes one out, and puts it in her hand.
“Thanks, love,” she says. She drags her head up and it lolls around on her shoulders. She lights the cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air.
“I’ve got about half an hour to look gorgeous.”
Leon says nothing.
“It’s a new one. A big cheese. The boss of the boss, something like that. A bloke at any rate. Sounds all right on the phone. You never know, you never know.”
Leon says nothing.
“Could be my lucky day.”
She takes a mirror out of her bag and squints into it.
“Not too shabby, Sylv. Not too bad at all.”
In half an hour they are both ready. Leon only took a few minutes to get a wash and then Sylvia told him to tidy up the kitchen. Sylvia spent all the time in her bedroom, muttering and swearing. When she comes back she looks the same as she did before but she has some lipstick on and it’s too bright. And it’s on her teeth but Leon is scared to tell her.
She punches all the cushions on the sofa and fills the kettle.
“I used to be married, you know. Yes, didn’t know that, did you? And Maureen. We were sisters that married brothers. She got the good one and I got the bast—the loser.”
Sylvia goes to the front window, moves the net curtains aside, and looks up and down the road.
“Then there was someone else. And he left me as well. Up here.”
She taps her temple.
“Not just me. Took leave of his senses, as they say. Cuckoo.”
Sylvia carries on tapping her temple even when she’s not talking.
“I couldn’t see it but Mo knew it from the get-go. Said he needed to sort himself out. Don’t we all.”
She lets the curtains drop.
“Look, here he is. Let him in, let him in. Wait. Quick. Now.”
Leon opens the front door and a man holds his hand out.
“You must be Leon. I’m Mike.”
He has a perfect social-worker smile and a hot, damp hand. He has a checked shirt and shiny purple boots with yellow laces. He has short hair that sticks up like a brush and an earring in the shape of a cross that judders when he moves. Leon moves aside to let him in.
“Is Sylvia about?” he asks.
Sylvia comes out of the kitchen, showing her pink teeth and creased face. Mike holds his hand out.
“Mike Dent, Independent Reviewing Officer for Leon. We spoke on—”
“Come in,” says Sylvia and she points to an armchair. “Coffee?”
“Black no sugar, please.”
While Sylvia is gone, Earring gets some papers out of his briefcase. Leon can see he also has a Mars bar in there and Leon wonders if he has brought him a present.
“How are you, Leon?”
“All right.”
“We’ve not met before, have we?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m an Independent Reviewing Officer. I’m the person in charge of making sure we’re taking care of you properly and we’re listening to what you say. Part of my job is to talk to you face-to-face so I can be certain you’re happy and well. You’re old enough now to have your wishes and feelings taken into account and for you to tell us what those wishes and feelings are. I also have to think about what your needs are from our point of view and then make sure that all your needs are being met. All right? Do you understand what I’ve just said, Leo
n?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve come today to give you some more information on what’s happening with your placement and also what the plans are for you in the long term. And also to ask you how you are. And also to ask you if there is anything you’re not happy with. We do this from time to time to make sure that we are taking good care of you. Okay? Do you understand this, Leon? Is there anything you want to ask me?”
Earring begins writing something on a notepad. “No questions so far?”
“No.”
“And Sylvia? You getting on with Sylvia?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a sizable lad for nine. Let’s see, your birthday is on . . . ooh, it’s in a few weeks’ time. Looking forward to it?”
“Yes.”
“And what would you like for your birthday? Bet you’ve been talking to Sylvia about it all the time. I know I did when I was your age. Couldn’t wait for my birthday to come around. Pestered the life out of my parents.”
“Yes.”
“Right, and you had an access visit with your mom on the, let’s see, eighth. How was that? Was it good to see your mom again?”
“Yes,” says Leon and he remembers Carol’s brown-stained teeth and her brown-stained fingers when she picked up her bag. “Leon,” she said, “I can’t manage myself, let alone you.” She squeezed his hand and walked out of the room. He ran to the door and watched her get smaller and smaller as she walked down the corridor. She had to press a buzzer to get out and while she was waiting for it to open, Leon thought she might turn around and wave. But she didn’t.
“Leon? I said how about school? Do you like your school?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Thanks for this coffee, Sylvia. For the first part of the meeting, I’d like to speak to Leon on his own. Is that okay?”