Hatred

by M J Dees

  “Look, Jim. For years our income has depended on international students.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, did you know that fewer and fewer international students are coming to the UK because of the rising xenophobia?”

  “I thought it would be cheap to study here.”

  “It is, but it turns out that international students will pay that little more to not get abused. We are closing lots of faculties, Jim, not just yours.”

  There was another long silence.

  Jim got up and left.

  *

  They couldn’t afford a birthday cake for Olivia, so Annabel had made one out of cardboard.

  Annabel had started to teach private music lessons, and the unemployment benefit was so pitiful that they survived from the income she received, cash in hand.

  He thought about Beggum and wondered whether they had made the right decision, trying to hold on to the centrally located flat. They were getting into debt to Beggum with the optimistic belief that Jim would find another position and that everything would be okay. Beggum often repeated his offer of free removal onto the street, and hatred for Beggum grew within Jim.

  Jim had been trying to do odd jobs here and there but he was only being paid in Lets[3] which he could exchange for other products or services in the community, but it was limited.

  In the streets he had seen the number of homeless increase along with the number of people looking through public waste bins for recycling or dragging carts full of cardboard or metal through the streets. He thought about something he had heard years before: ‘We can find the true measure of any society in how it treats its most vulnerable members’. Jim wondered where the humanity in Britain had gone.

  All this time, Jim had been thinking about Carter Rodriguez and the offer Carter had made should Jim ever grow tired of academia. Jim got in touch and was surprised to discover Carter was living in London. Jim expressed an interest in employment but clarified that his interest was in legitimate enterprises. Carter apologised. He could not help him in that respect, but if Jim were to relax his criteria, he might help. He listened to Jim’s story with a sympathetic ear and wanted to help. It was then that he suggested the summer house on the allotments; it was far out of town and Carter would only require enough rent to cover the allotment fees, which were negligible.

  Chapter Eleven – 21 years before the collapse

  It had been fourteen months since Jim had lost his job at the university.

  Through a window of Carter Rodriguez’s large shed in his allotment that he said he had inherited from an aunt, Jim watched Annabel leave for one of her private lessons. There were several families living on the allotment site and given the current housing crisis, the council seemed happy to turn a blind eye as long as they didn’t make a nuisance of themselves.

  Twenty-two months old, Olivia sat on the floor of the cabin, next to the philodendron plant, playing with newspapers, and Jim dressed her in warmest clothes. They left the allotment by the back entrance, hoping to avoid the neighbours who were always trying to convince Jim to join them on some dishonest venture or other.

  As the autumn air became crisper, the population of the allotment shrank. Anyone with enough to rent a room did so and only the most hardy or unfortunate remained. Misfortune was indiscriminate and so there were residents from both ends of the political spectrum which only contributed to the sense of disharmony.

  They walked to the house of one of Annabel’s clients who owed her money. Jim had promised not to make a scene.

  The streets were littered with rubbish, the recycling collection had ended weeks before, and the council left it to grubby looking people with handcarts to sift through and take what they wanted. Even the residual waste collection was intermittent and they had to avoid dirty nappies strewn across the street where foxes had turned over the bins.

  As they approached a junction, Jim had to take extra care. The increase in carjacking meant that motorists didn’t stop at red lights any more.

  As well as the foxes, there were stray cats and dogs everywhere. Jim could barely sleep with the noise of animals fighting all night. If they weren’t fighting, they were making love, the sound of which Jim thought was worse than the fighting.

  He’d contemplated getting a gun, but he didn’t know where he could get one, didn’t have the money to buy one, and was uncomfortable having a weapon around Olivia.

  He rang the bell twice.

  “What do you want?”

  The voice had come from an upstairs window.

  “My wife gave some lessons. I’ve come for the money.”

  “Come back tomorrow,” said the woman and shut the window.

  Jim rang the bell again, but with no response. He was about to give up, but he thought about the effort that Annabel was going to, to bring some money into the household. He leant on the bell, ignoring the stares of passers-by.

  The window opened.

  “Get away or I’ll call the police.”

  “You do that and I’ll tell them...”

  The window shut.

  Jim leant on the bell once more.

  The door opened, and an angry woman stood there with two mastiffs on leads.

  “I’ll set the dogs on you if you don’t leave right now.”

  “After we get our money.”

  “You’re unemployed,” she said. “I can tell. I’ll tell them your wife is earning money on the side and you’ll lose your benefit.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll deduct tax and insurance from your wife’s money.”

  “You do that,” said Jim. “And I’ll come round tomorrow for the receipts from Revenue and Customs.

  “Let your wife try to come to me for work again.”

  “The money, please.”

  “If my husband were here...”

  “But he’s not.”

  The woman gave him the money.

  “Thank you,” said Jim, turning to leave, not looking back at the house or the woman.

  On the way back to the allotments, he heard a colossal explosion. He comforted Olivia, who had been scared by the bang. Down at the end of the road, he saw a house on fire. In the past he might have been shocked by such an event, but these explosions had become common and he knew the cause: people who had their gas cut off after being unable to pay the bills would try to connect to the gas mains illegally.

  He was equally careful to avoid the neighbours on his return to the allotment. He was keen to avoid one resident whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember. They kept regaling him with their story of how someone had stolen their house and the police and authorities had done nothing, and now he had to live in his shed.

  When Annabel came back, she was pleased that he had got the money off her client, but her mood changed when he said he still had to pay Beggum his money.

  He knew it had been a huge mistake, trying to hold on to the centrally located flat for almost a year after Jim had lost his job. The even bigger mistake they had made getting into debt to Beggum. It reached the point where Jim was afraid to go home and would spend the day sitting in parks or wandering around shops, marvelling at all the things available to those with money.

  It meant that Jim had to leave Olivia with Annabel and get the train into town to pick up his unemployment benefit, and he resented paying the fare, which seemed to go up all the time. He couldn’t sign on where the allotment was, as it was still technically illegal to live on allotment sites. For this reason he had to maintain the pretence that he lived with Beggum and worried that he would be forever indebted to Beggum to maintain this farce.

  The situation made him angry, but when he saw the crowds at the Job Centre; he remembered he was only one of six million in the same position, tens of thousands of whom must be in a worse position than he. After the Job Centre, he visited Beggum to pay some arrears.

  “Good afternoon,” said Jim, in an attempt at pleasantry.

  “How’s your daughter?” asked Beggum
. “What’s she going to be?”

  “Who knows?” said Jim, handing Beggum the money. “She’s not two years old yet.”

  “And the wife?”

  “She’s fine. Any post?”

  “For you? No, sorry, no job offers. A man was here, though. All quiet in town?”

  “What do you mean? All quiet?”

  “I heard another riot had broken out, police fighting with the right, or the left, shop windows getting broken, you saw nothing?”

  “No, what did the man want?”

  “I don’t know. He stood here nattering for half an hour, so I gave him your address.”

  “The one out there?”

  “He knew the address here.”

  “But we agreed.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “Oh, for f...” Jim stormed off in case he said something to Beggum he would later regret.

  He caught sight of himself in a shop window and realised how much he looked unemployed. Police cars raced past, and Jim assumed it must have been the trouble Beggum was talking about. Obviously the police were still doing their job, despite rumours to the contrary. There had been a lot of civil unrest recently. He noticed more drones in the air than usual.

  Jim had lost interest in current affairs and did not understand what was going on anymore. He walked past the shops and cafes he couldn’t afford to go into, all the way to the flat where Carter Rodriguez lived.

  Jim rang the bell, and Mia answered the door.

  “Hi,” said Jim. “Is Carter at home?”

  “Jim? Come in.”

  “Jim!” said Carter, “Mia? Put the kettle on, will you?”

  Carter showed Jim into his study, the type of study Jim could only dream about.

  “I bought a few bits of furniture,” said Carter, seeing Jim looking around.

  “It’s amazing,” said Jim, admiring the shelves full of books.

  “How is it going?”

  “It’s going,” said Jim. “Annabel is getting some private music lessons.”

  “Here’s the tea,” said Mia, bringing in a tray. “And there’s some cake.”

  “Thanks, Mia,” Carter smiled. “Is it getting cold out there?”

  “The wood stove works well. Here’s the rent.”

  “Oh, right, the rent, is it time already?” Carter held the bank notes. “You fixed the roof, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, thanks for buying the stuff. I’m sure it’s watertight now.”

  “Do you have the heat on all day?”

  “No, in the morning and then in late afternoon, so it’s warm for the evening.”

  “How much does the fuel cost for that thing?”

  “It’s not that expensive.”

  “I read an article about dry rot the other day. I wanted to ask you to keep the heating on, to dry the walls. Take this money back to make sure you have enough fuel and then bring me the receipt for the fuel every month.”

  “No, Carter, I can’t do that, you’ll be giving the rent back to me every month.”

  “Jim, it’s in my own interests to have the roof fixed and the place heated.”

  “I understand what you’re saying but...”

  “No buts, and that’s the last word. Oh, did you hear that they have dismissed the chancellor at that university you used to work at?”

  “Really?” The news cheered up Jim a little. “If only Annabel had a Brazilian passport or I, an American, or Mexican, one. Then we could join the exodus.”

  “It’s true, you can’t go anywhere on a British passport these days. It used to be a ticket to the world, but not anymore.”

  “You remember those people in France who used to get paid to smuggle refugees into Britain?”

  “A bit before my time, but yes.”

  “Before your time? They were still doing it ten years ago.”

  “What about them?”

  “I heard they are now being paid to smuggle people out of Britain.”

  “I can believe it.”

  It was early evening by the time Jim left Carter’s and, as he walked through the streets, he noticed how many more sex workers seemed to hang around on street corners and there were more people sleeping in the parks than ever.

  He reflected on the fact that he, Annabel, and Olivia were not as poorly off as some. More police cars raced past, their sirens blaring and their lights blazing. There seemed to be more police around than usual, and Jim envied their employed status. He sensed them looking down their noses at him and the other unemployed street wanderers like invigilators observing students in an exam.

  The sex workers didn’t give him a second glance, he obviously had no money. He wanted to go around telling everyone what a good job he used to have, what nice suits he used to wear. He looked in a shop window.

  “Move on there.”

  Jim turned and saw a police officer.

  “Do you mean me?” Jim asked.

  “Move along.”

  “Can I not look in a window?” Jim asked.

  “I’ll not ask you again,” the police officer reached for his stick.

  Jim remembered what Beggum had said about shop windows having been broken. He caught sight of himself in the window’s reflection and realised he was one of them now, the poor, the masses whom the police needed to defend decent people against.

  “Move along,” the police officer shouted, delivering Jim a sharp blow across the shoulders with his stick.

  Jim turned away and stumbled and fell. He felt another blow as he was struggling to his feet and ran without looking back, ran until he was sure he was out of sight. Then he turned and walked nervously towards the train station, taking care to avoid the police officers who seemed to be everywhere, as were the drones.

  *

  “I can’t understand where Jim has got to,” said Annabel. “He’s usually home by now.”

  “He’ll arrive soon,” said Tony. “How is he coping?”

  “It’s difficult being unemployed for so long. Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been away for a while. How have you been getting by?”

  “I’ve been giving private lessons. How about you?”

  “I’m moving back in with your sister-in-law. I never learn.”

  “Maybe she’s good for you?”

  “I don’t think so... but let’s not talk about that.”

  “Jim picked up the unemployment benefit today, I’m worried he might have lost his mind and taken his dole money to the pub.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “It’s not just the drink. I worry about him. He went to see Beggum today. What if Beggum said something to wind him up the wrong way?”

  “He wouldn’t do anything.”

  “If it’s money, I might lend...”

  “It’s not just the money, Tony, Jim needs to work, and his life needs to have some kind of meaning. He’s stopped writing altogether.”

  “Perhaps I could find him a job?”

  “That’s kind, Tony, but it would be nice if he found something on his own merit. He’s had plenty of offers of the criminal kind, but he can’t do it for the sake of Olivia.”

  Tony sat and looked at Annabel for a while.

  “I got out this morning, Annabel,” he said at last. “I did a year.”

  “Ever since you didn’t come back that day, I imagined something of the kind. When Jim’s mother said the police were looking for you, I thought it must be the case.”

  “Do you know who informed on me?”

  “Jim’s sister?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’re going back to her?”

  “We belong together. Do you know how much she has hidden away?”

  “She has savings?”

  “More than you could imagine.”

  Tony stood up.

  “I’ll be going now,” he said.

  “Good night, Tony. I hope things go well for you.”

  “Don’t worry about Jim; he’ll be here any moment.
”

  “Don’t forget your cases.”

  Annabel stood outside, on the street, in the darkness, and watched Tony’s Ride drive away.

  She sensed there was someone else in the darkness with her.

  “Jim? Is that you?”

  “Has he gone?” asked Jim.

  “Yes. Have you been waiting here a long time?”

  Jim didn’t answer.

  “Shall we go in,” she said. “I’m getting cold.”

  Jim was silent.

  “Tony only came for the cases, he’s not coming back.”

  Nothing

  “The lesson went well today,” she tried again. “I meant to tell you.”

  She looked up at the stars.

  “Olivia has been asking after you all afternoon.”

  Silence.

  “Oh Jim, say something. Do I no longer exist? Are we both alone?”

  She turned and started walking back towards the allotments.

  “Annabel?”

  She kept walking.

  “Annabel!”

  She didn’t stop until she reached the door of the summerhouse, where he caught up with her and grabbed her.

  “The police knocked me to the ground today. They chased me away. I can’t look anyone in the face anymore.”

  “You can look at me.”

  They entered the shed where Olivia was sleeping.

  Part Three - Manchester

  “Try to understand men. If you understand each other, you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and almost always leads to love.”

  ― John Steinbeck

  Chapter Twelve – 19 years 8 months before the collapse

  “Your time will come,” Annabel said with as much diplomacy as he knew she could muster, patting him on his arm as he lay next to her, though not taking her eyes off the stretch which she had bought to replace her old flip.

  “I’m doubting that,” said Jim. “They gave the head’s position to Wang.”

  “That’s not a surprise, is it? Jim, a year ago we were living on an allotment site. You should just be grateful that you have a job.”

  “I suppose. And I suppose they were bound to give Devi the humanities job. What was I thinking?”