‘Slave labour,’ the boy continued.
‘What you mean?’ Trey asked.
‘Cheap labour, learn a trade, my hole. ’Cept me of course, I’m learnin the family business.’
Trey ignored him but when Wilder stood close he realised the conversation was not yet over. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
The boy tapped his nose and said secrets were secrets.
Other boys filed into the changing room and Trey spied an escape route away from Wilder and he took it. He stood outside and found a place downwind of the acrid smoke that plagued the camp night and day and he looked across the yard towards the bunkhouses. Despite his best efforts a little of Kay’s beauty had been lost to him in the night and he couldn’t wait to see her. He leant against the tin-bump wall and put his hands into his pockets and felt for his lighter to know it was there. Security came in knowing that he was a flick away from warmth of his choosing. A spark to turn his life from useless tinder into something more and that single thought felt good.
He watched the sun sluice sudden heat into every corner of the camp and it shrank the black shadow squares into dazzling white. He stepped from the thin strip of shade and out into the heat and turned his face to the good morning buzz.
No matter what Wilder or anyone else said, he was no newbie. Standing smack bang in the centre of camp without anyone knowing his true reason was enough, it was all something. He was a sniff away from revenge and freeing his brother. In two months’ time he would turn sixteen, he’d be able to get a job and find some derelict shack to do up, a sweet home from home down by the sea. He’d look out for Billy the way as kids he looked out for him. It could work, it would work, it had to. Trey smiled at the idea of a simple life and he stood happy in thought until the others came into the yard.
Together they loped towards the dining tent and Trey fell in with the standing and idling in line and he took up a bowl and spoon and waited for the one thick slap of porridge.
‘Where’s the sugar?’ he asked the boy serving.
‘Already comes with.’
‘Where?’
‘It’s in it, stupid.’
Trey took a poke and a lick with his finger. ‘Tastes more like salt.’
‘Well it int. What you want, fancy syrup?’
‘Salt’s what they have in Scotland,’ said Lamby jumping in beside him. ‘That’s their preference.’
Trey saw him try to think of a way to shorten the word and he told him not to bother.
‘Anyway, there’s ways to gettin sugar on the black market in this place.’
‘Wilder runs it, no doubt,’ said Trey.
‘Guess so.’
‘Spose he’s got money cus of his dad or whatever?’
They carried their bowls to a table that was not yet occupied. ‘Don’t dis him, not in public anyway.’
‘Why not?’ asked Trey as they sat down. ‘I int in any case.’
‘Cus I don’t reckon his dad is no bigo businessman like he makes out. Bit of a rough-around himself I’d say. Don’t say nothin, poor kid’s in denial.’
‘That’s why he beats you,’ said Trey. ‘Cus you got somethin on him.’
Lamby shrugged. ‘Maybe, maybe not, I’m working on it.’
They sat silent and mouthed grace when it was asked of them and Trey dipped his head obediently with the blah going off in his mouth despite his mind talking otherwise.
With grace over he sat forward and ate the salt-grit porridge with a grimace and he wondered which of the two boys was the bigger liar. There was something not quite right about Wilder but Lamby was roundabout the same. There was a reason Trey didn’t trust anyone; people were just plain untrustworthy.
He sat with his eyes on the lookout for Kay and when a trolley of tea and hot squash wheeled past he asked for one of each and poured the tea into the porridge and drank it down.
‘You’re a weirdo,’ smiled Lamby. ‘Defo.’
‘You like eatin this stuff?’
‘Spose. Just food, init?’
‘Barely.’
‘Tastes OK to me.’
‘Well don’t that make you the weirdo?’
Lamby laughed and for the second time Trey kind of liked him despite the mistrust and he supposed it was nice to have someone for the idling.
He held the hot orange in both hands and wished he had a cigarette to go with it and Lamby said there were ways for getting that too.
‘Well I’m gonna have to find the ways.’
‘See if you int got somethin to trade,’ said Lamby.
Trey shrugged. ‘Like what?’
‘I dunno; you got to work out what it is someone might want. Keep swappin till you get the thing that the kid that got the fags wants.’
Trey watched Kay stand in line and wait for her bowl to be filled and he felt something inside him rip and break and build back wrong. He took a gulp of the orange drink and despite its heat he swallowed. He saw Lamby watching him and he coughed and asked what he had on Kay.
‘Best you don’t know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Best you don’t ask the same.’
‘You know why she’s in here or no?’
‘Bit. Don’t go askin though. She don’t like folks askin.’
Kay spun her metal bowl on to the table and sat across from the boys.
‘Mornin,’ she nodded, chewing the spoon.
‘Mornin, Kayo.’ Lamby grinned and winked at Trey.
‘Rule number one, please don’t call me that, it’s way too early for that.’
Trey smiled. ‘He’s got a word for everythin just about.’
Kay nodded. ‘And I got a name for him.’
‘Larry,’ laughed Lamby.
‘Idiot.’ She shook her head at the thick porridge before splitting it with the spoon and Trey watched her.
‘So you workin with me today or no?’ she asked, not bothered either way.
Trey shrugged. ‘Don’t know, I think so.’ He wanted to say more but the shy thing had his tongue twisted.
‘I’ll go ask,’ said Lamby and he jumped to his feet and went to the area reserved for the chaplain and the house masters.
‘He’s an odd one, he is.’ Trey put a foot up on the bench for some style of cool.
‘He’s got his reasons.’
‘You know him long?’
‘I known everyone long. He’s a good lad, an idiot but a good un.’
‘He likes you I’d say, as friends I mean.’ Trey felt the cool inside him melt and pool. ‘Not that there’s anythin wrong with likin you another way.’ The heat came to his cheeks and he looked away.
Kay laughed and carried on eating and Trey knew that she knew he liked her in that way. Of course she did. Just about every boy in the place must like her in that way.
He saw Lamby creep about the masters and he watched them for hidden signs and codes. He could see their mouths tighten with amusement and he looked at their wagging hands and searched them for signs of unwashable blood, the crud and stain of slaughter. Trey bit at his fingernails and wished for one solitary clue that would lead him to the killer.
‘Yep you’re with us,’ said Lamby when he returned to the table. ‘I said you dint want to do farmin just to be sure. Reverse psycho, it’s called.’
They all laughed and Trey stubbed a bit of blood on to his jeans.
‘So what you got planned for us today, boss?’ Lamby asked Kay.
‘Rule number two, do not call me that.’ She turned to Trey. ‘He thinks I like it, I don’t.’
With breakfast shovelled and swallowed Trey followed the others across the compound towards the farm and when they passed two idling boys Kay said they worked farm too.
Trey nodded towards them and the lads who were twins nodded back.
‘This is John and David.’ Kay shouted over her shoulder. ‘They’re identical if you dint know.’ She looked back at Trey and smiled.
‘I’m Trey,’ he said, looking up at the boys. ‘I seen you bout ca
mp.’
‘This here’s John,’ said Lamby and he linked arms with the boy who towered over him. ‘And that there is David. They’re mute so don’t bother waitin for no chat. Them what you call strong silent types. Not like me, I’m weak as a twig.’
They passed the farm barn and carried on towards the part of camp that was meant for rearing cattle, a group of fields that settled at the opposite end of the compound, and was high and far enough to give the impression that it had somehow liberated itself from the confines of captivity. Field upon field it stretched itself along the edge of the fence and where granite pushed from the earth it pushed back; pasture green and yellow from the first cut of summer.
Kay told him one lone thing worth knowing about the cows was to not get attached and Trey had guessed that already. ‘Them’s for eatin and nothin more and that’s a shame but there int nothin we can do bout it.’
Trey looked over the wooden gate towards the animals grazing on sugar beet in the far corner of one of the fields and he wondered if they had any sense of destiny. The electrocution and the chop and the table, the intimacy of blood and death had him tipped wrong. It was everywhere; he could smell it.
‘Today we got trenches,’ Kay continued. ‘Masters said we got trenches all week so that’s what we got.’ She pointed at a belly roll of untouched land beyond the barns and told the twins to go load the pickup with axes and shovels.
‘You two can come with me.’ She jumped over the gate and into the field and Trey and Lamby followed.
‘What’s with all the fences?’ asked Trey.
‘Keeps things in,’ said Lamby. ‘Keeps the cattle in for one.’
‘What bout the trenches?’
‘We dig em and then they put storage units over em.’
‘Why?’
Lamby shook his head. ‘Can’t tell you.’
‘You know but can’t tell or you can’t tell cus you don’t know?’
Lamby stopped for a second. ‘The first one,’ he said.
‘You know much bout any of the masters?’ Trey asked.
‘Not much, why would I?’
‘You bin here long enough.’
‘So?’
‘So what you know bout the Preacher?’
Lamby shook his head.
‘What?’
‘Won’t do to ask bout the boss.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just cus. Don’t you wanna know bout the cows? What breed and whatever else?’
Trey sighed. ‘What bout em?’
‘They’re called limousine and they can be moody beasts so don’t have a go at em or they’ll have a go at you back. I guess you could say they’re sensitive.’
‘I don’t blame em with what fate got planned,’ said Kay.
‘What you feed em?’ asked Trey.
‘We got silage to give em whenever and hay in winter. But don’t give just anythin, ask me first.’
Trey wanted to ask more questions to keep her talking but he knew Lamby was watching him. ‘What?’ he asked.
‘So what you in for anyway?’ the boy asked. ‘You askin questions bout all else, I’m in for armed robbery.’
‘What you rob?’ Trey asked. He already had the boy marked as a joker.
‘Village post office. Only I wasn’t really a part of the robbery, just happened to be there when it went down, then I kind of went along for the ride in the getaway car, then ta-da.’
‘Ta-da what?’
‘Whad’ya know, I’m doin time.’
Trey studied him closely, watched his smile pull and ping like a snapper-band tightening.
‘Mum and Dad weren’t too pleased. Pride and joy and all that.’
‘You like it here?’ asked Trey. ‘Seems you do.’
‘It’s all right, much the same as home in many ways.’
‘Like what?’
‘Just ways.’ Lamby realised that Kay had continued walking and he called out for her to wait and she stood angled and cross.
‘What?’ she shouted, her hands were muddy and she wiped them on her jeans.
‘I’m givin Trey some backstory, fillin him in.’
Trey could see she was trying not to smile, her dark eyes sparking within the forever outdoor tan.
‘Not my fault everyone else is borin, got to fill the gaps with my own this and that. You gonna tell me why you’re in?’
‘Nope.’
‘I told you mine.’
‘So? Dint mean I wanted to hear it.’
‘Moody type, int you? A right mystery.’
‘Not used to chattin,’ said Trey and they followed Kay through the uncultivated fields and stopped when she stopped.
‘Why you wanna know bout the masters anyway?’
‘I don’t.’
‘Do too. Trey wants to know bout the masters,’ he shouted towards Kay, ‘and the Preacher.’
‘No I don’t.’ Trey kicked at the ground and he warned the demon to keep his tongue zipped in his teeth if he wanted to stay in the shadows. Questions had to be stored deep in the shovelled ground until the time was right for digging.
‘What we got here?’ asked Lamby suddenly.
‘Broken fence.’ Kay kicked at a partially rotten post and it fell back on to the ground. ‘Rotten through, we’ll have to replace it before the cows get to it.’
Trey helped Lamby take down the rotten posts and Kay unpicked the wire with the pocket knife she kept sharp and hidden in a slip of leather in her boot.
When the twins arrived they unloaded everything useful from the truck and Trey and Lamby sat on the flatbed and watched the others bash new posts into place with the driver and secure a run of wire with loop nails.
‘So you got anythin worthy to tell me at all?’ asked Lamby.
Trey looked across at the boy and shrugged. ‘Spose not.’
‘Don’t trust me enough to tell me nothin, is that it?’
‘Don’t have nothin to tell.’
Lamby nodded his head knowingly. ‘I know you do, just a matter of time till you tell me. Don’t worry, I can wait.’
‘You two plannin on sittin there all day?’ shouted Kay and Trey was glad to escape the grilling.
‘You int said what we’re meant to do,’ said Lamby.
‘Trenches,’ said Trey. ‘Where we meant to dig?’
Kay pointed towards the far end of the fence. ‘Take a pickaxe and spade each, it’s marked out on the ground. We’ll stay here and fix the fence.’
The two boys made their way across the side curve of moor and Trey felt a bit of mood scratching inside him. He felt good and he felt bad all in a mix. He didn’t like crowds, but neither did he like worming one-to-ones.
They found the slap of land with string staked in squares to the ground and Trey took to digging with a good full-pump hit of hope and hate in his heart. The sun was already slamming hot in the sky and its heat split the earth with a bang. He shouldered the pickaxe and swung it with an eye to the fractal cracked land and sometimes he aimed it just right and sometimes it missed and sent flashes of silver dust up into his face. He thought about the long hot summer laid out in the immediate future and he thought about forever summers in the long gone past.
He wished he’d paid more attention to the stop-clock minutes of his short life, filed memories into storage for later, all the small smiling things, the good things. He ceased digging and looked up towards the circle of trees southward on the horizon and saw Billy run towards him, something wild swinging in his fists. A dead thing or a found thing, Trey wished he could remember. Wished he could share in his brother’s joy of discovery all over again, knock-about boys having a laugh, a mess around for the sake of mischief.
He wanted to add colour to the black-and-white memory but the inner demon was forcing itself on to him, like always when happy was about to settle, the devil-dog came racing.
He lifted the axe and swung it almost out of control.
‘Hey!’ shouted Lamby.
Trey shrugged and said sorry.
‘You got an axe to grind with someone, I reckon.’
‘No I int.’
‘Should pace yourself. You go at it like a mental and you won’t live to see the end of the day. Hey, you know what the only job you start at the top is?’
‘No.’
‘You wanna guess?’
‘No.’
‘Diggin a hole, hole diggin. The only job you start at the top.’
‘Lamby?’ said Trey and he threw down the pickaxe and picked up the spade.
‘What?’
‘Shut up.’
Lamby smiled and the kid-glint in his eye made Trey smile too despite himself.
‘What you smilin bout?’ asked Lamby.
‘Nothin.’
‘I know in any case.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘Do double do.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘You’re in fancy mood.’
When Trey ignored him he nodded towards Kay working in the far distance. ‘I knew it, knew as soon as I seen you seen her. Bang. I tell you it won’t amount to nothin.’
‘Shut up. Just like bein outside and workin and all.’
‘This time of year,’ Lamby agreed. ‘But give it a couple months and not so much.’
‘You still gotta work it through the snow?’
‘What?’
‘The land.’
‘Course. Snow, ice, blizzards. Most volunteer for kitchen but there’s only a couple places. If kitchen’s full then they opt for slaughter. Int so cold in slaughter.’
‘What bout butcherin?’
‘Int much of that, most meat goes out in quarters, without its insides of course.’
‘Don’t the masters mind most work in slaughter?’
‘No way, if they could they’d have us all there one way or the other. I’m surprised they don’t steal the animals off the moor if they run out. Who’s gonna argue with the lord?’
Trey wondered about this, wondered about the men with their sly eyes that said one thing and mouths that said another.
‘Where they sell the meat?’ he asked.
‘All over, I spose, but most go down to the docks for shippin. Preacher’s got connections on that score apparently. I always try get into kitchen in winter, it’s the warmest place we got, all the ovens on and the pot bubblin with whatever.’
Trey felt a gurgle turn over in his stomach and he asked what time he thought it was.
The Light That Gets Lost (Shakespeare Today) Page 6