The Bombs That Brought Us Together

by Brian Conaghan

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I thought …’

  ‘Mum see my sister three day ago.’

  ‘In Little Town?’

  ‘In patrol.’

  ‘An Old Country patrol?’

  ‘Yes, she working for Old Country patrol. Mum see her.’

  ‘Did your mum speak to her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My sister no see Mum.’

  ‘But she’s sure that she saw your sister in an Old Country patrol truck though?’

  ‘Sure one hundred of per cent.’

  We spent a minute or so thinking. I tried to imagine what Pav’s sister looked like; was she as gaunt, pale and hungry as her younger brother? I tried to imagine her dressed in a uniform with a killing machine slung over her shoulder. All mean-faced in search of any scallywag Little Towners. Wow! Pav’s sister an Old Country troop? It was hard to believe. The shame and dismay his parents must have felt.

  ‘Maybe they grabbed her off the street, Pav. You can’t be sure she wasn’t.’

  Pav shook his head, almost sniggering at my naivety.

  ‘She not taken by them, Charlie. This is thousand of per cent definitely.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really yes. My sister wear the Old Country uniform, Charlie.’

  ‘The military one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So your sister works for Old Country?’

  ‘Yes, she works.’

  ‘But … how?’

  I scrunched my eyes, confused. I didn’t understand how Pav and his family could loathe the Old Country Government and Military so much, yet his sister decided to hobble off and get herself a position with them. Surely that was a major betrayal of her family?

  ‘Why does your sister work for the Old Country Military, Pav? I just don’t get it,’ I said.

  ‘She work for a while, they wash her brain when at university. Say to her many lies. Then one day she leave me, Mum and Dad to work for Government Military.’

  ‘No explanation?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘She just got up and left like that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you never saw her again?’

  ‘She leave home.’

  ‘And never returned?’

  ‘Only one time for tell Mum and Dad they must become Government supporter.’

  ‘Your sister told your mum and dad that?’

  ‘She say we support or we have much troubles.’

  ‘When you say troubles what you really mean is … ?’

  ‘Troubles. I mean troubles, Charlie.’

  ‘Like she was going to kill you if you didn’t support the Government or something?’

  ‘No! I no mean that.’

  ‘To me troubles means bad stuff, Pav.’

  ‘Bad stuff, yes. But not die. My sister not psycho maniac.’

  I don’t know so much. Let’s look at the evidence: she’s part of an Old Country Military who gained entry here by bombing us to bits. She’s now part of those ground troops who tell us how we should be living our lives. And if we don’t live our lives according to the way they want us to, they’ll make that life a tough one … or worse. So I’d say psycho maniac just about covers it.

  ‘I’m not saying she is, Pav. I just thought –’

  ‘She tell to us, without supporting Government it best leave Old Country.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said, putting my hands up to my chest so Pav could hold them wild horses back for a second. ‘So you’re telling me that it was your sister who told you to leave Old Country?’

  ‘Yes, she say.’

  ‘Say or told?’

  ‘Told.’

  ‘Like a threat?’

  ‘No, like told.’ Pav was firm.

  I couldn’t see the difference, but I think Pav had convinced himself there was one.

  ‘Better to leave than to be like chicken on toast, no?’

  Sorry … what?

  Excuse me?

  Come again?

  This must’ve been a direct Old Country lingo translation; I didn’t get the chicken on toast thing. Pav’s hands were wide open; he was expecting a response. I gave him one, of sorts. Nodding my head in agreement.

  ‘No, you definitely don’t want to be the chicken on the toast, Pav. That doesn’t sound like a good place to be.’

  ‘Exact … so that why we come here.’

  Collating it all in my head, it became clear that the reasons the Dudas came to Little Town wasn’t because their daughter had joined up with their Government’s Military; it wasn’t because she had tried, and failed, to have them follow in her footsteps; it wasn’t because she had threatened them with experiencing some troubles (yeah, right!) if they didn’t show their support. No, it was all because the Dudas were scared shitless that someone from the Military – maybe their own daughter – was going to force them to lie under a giant metaphorical toaster like a family of chickens. I don’t think so somehow.

  ‘Is your mum afraid?’ I said.

  ‘Afraid. Sad. Angry. Every things.’

  ‘Does she think that your sister and her Old Country buddies will come for you?’

  ‘Yes and no and maybe. Her head is the spaghetti plate at moment, Charlie.’

  I got this meaning.

  ‘So what you’re telling me is that your sister works for Old Country Military?’

  ‘Yes, she work.’

  ‘And that she’s now on the ground here in Little Town?’

  ‘She in Little Town, yes.’

  ‘And that she and her cronies might be on the lookout for you and other Old Country refugees?’

  ‘True it could be.’

  If ever there was a swear moment this was it. I was having so many of them since I’d met Pav. I said it into my head. A whole sentence full of them.

  ‘A bit of advice, Pav.’

  ‘What advice?’

  ‘Whatever happens, do not mention any of this to anyone. Not to Norman and definitely not to The Big Man.’

  ‘You also no say Erin F too,’ he instructed me.

  ‘Erin F doesn’t even answer my texts, Pav, so don’t worry about me; my lips are zipped.’ I pulled an imaginary zip across my mouth. Pav did the same, then we pretended to lock them with an invisible key. We even swapped lock keys and put them into our pockets. That’s the sort of silly thing mates do, isn’t it? I’d have buried my key for Pav. It made us laugh. We needed a laugh.

  ‘What are you planning on doing? Your mum and dad, that is?’ I said.

  ‘We keep head down, like always.’

  ‘Well, nobody knows about the shed, so maybe this would be a good place to keep the head down. It’s safe anyway.’

  The words had barely left my mouth …

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Went the shed door.

  After the initial fright we froze.

  The adrenalin arrived tsunami style.

  Everything jingled-jangled inside our bodies.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  The wooden door almost flew off its hinges. But The Big Man’s lock held firm. Just.

  ‘Open up,’ the voice said.

  ‘Who is it?’ I said.

  ‘Open up or I’ll break the thing down.’

  ‘What you want?’ Pav said.

  ‘You’ve got three seconds,’ the voice cried.

  I was afraid that Mum, Dad or the Dudas would hear the commotion and investigate.

  ‘One!’

  ‘We do nothing,’ Pav shouted.

  ‘Two!’

  ‘Open door,’ Pav whispered.

  ‘You open it,’ I whispered back.

  ‘Three!’ the voice howled. At least the voice spoke the lingo, which meant that, whoever it was, it wasn’t an Old Country patrol hunting down dissidents and refugees. ‘I’m warning you two, I’ll boot this thing down.’

  ‘NO! DON’T!’ I said. ‘Don’
t break down the door, mister. I’ll open it.’

  ‘Move it then,’ he said.

  As soon as the door opened I recognised him straight away. It was none other than our good friend Muscles, standing upright with his biceps flexed, head to toe in black clothes – bouncer clobber.

  ‘I don’t have time for this crap, especially from you two clowns. You’d better start toeing the line here.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘We were just shifting some furniture around and then the knocks gave us a fright, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll give you more than a fright,’ Muscles said.

  ‘Want to come in?’ I stepped aside so he could enter.

  When he came into our shed it didn’t feel as big and spacious any longer. Pav sat in one of the chairs, almost hugging it for special protection.

  ‘So this is the hole you two are busy rearranging?’ He looked around our shed, shaking his head. ‘What’s happened to the youth these days?’ he said under his breath.

  ‘Do you want to sit down?’ I asked him.

  He didn’t give me a reply. ‘It beggars belief to think what you two lesbians get up to in here day and night.’

  I could see Pav shifting in his chair, ready to pounce and correct Muscles. Fortunately, without Muscles noticing, I managed to give him a little shake of the head, telling him to stay calm.

  ‘Nothing much,’ I said.

  ‘Nothing much, eh?’ Muscles said.

  ‘We do no things,’ Pav said.

  Muscles stood hovering over him.

  ‘You’d be lucky to get a bird in an aviary, Old Country, so if I were you, I’d take what I can get, son.’

  Pav gave him his death stare.

  Muscles looked away first.

  Victory to Pav.

  After losing the contest, Muscles laughed, then flopped himself down on one of the other chairs. He pulled a small rucksack from behind his shoulder and placed it between his feet.

  ‘This isn’t a social call,’ he said.

  ‘Aw, that’s a pity,’ I said.

  ‘Watch it, Law,’ he said, pointing to his mouth. ‘This is going to get you into some deep shit one of these days if you’re not careful.’

  I didn’t reply. Pav snorted.

  ‘That goes for you as well, Old Country,’ he said to Pav.

  ‘So why are you here?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, why here?’ Pav said.

  ‘The Big Man wanted to give you a little something.’

  ‘The Big Man?’ I said.

  ‘What Big Man wanting?’ Pav said.

  ‘What he wants, Old Country. What he wants. Jesus, you’ll have to learn our lingo properly, son, if you want to get by in this town.’

  ‘What does he want to give us?’ I asked.

  ‘A few presents.’ He looked around the shed. ‘Let’s call it a house-warming gift.’

  He dug deep into the bag, pulled out two Moleskine notepads and handed them to us along with a pen each – one of those pens that had a choice of four different colours. Each colour huddled together in the same pen. Genius. I’d always wanted a Moleskine notepad. I tried to hide my smile. Pav didn’t need to try.

  ‘He knows you’re going back to school tomorrow. He just wanted to give you a little starter pack.’

  He rummaged again. Deeper. When his hand came out it was clutching a small brown paper bag.

  ‘This one is for you, Law.’

  ‘What is it?’ I said.

  ‘Open it and see.’

  I made to unwrap the paper.

  ‘NO! DON’T OPEN,’ Pav shouted. He was on his feet with his hands out towards me.

  Everyone stopped.

  ‘Could be boob prize, Charlie,’ Pav said.

  ‘A what?’ I said.

  ‘A what?’ Muscles said.

  ‘Like bomb of nail,’ Pav said.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Old Country. Do you think I’d bring a nail bomb in here and sit watching while he opens it in my presence?’

  Muscles had a point.

  Pav saw his point.

  ‘What sort of tripe goes through that Old Country brain of yours?’ Muscles pointed at Pav’s head. There was a tense moment as he waited for his answer. ‘Do you think I’m a numpty, son? Eh?’

  ‘Erm … No … I no think this,’ Pav said before sitting back down again.

  ‘Open it.’ Muscles said. ‘Go on.’

  I raised the bag up to my eyes in order to peek inside.

  ‘BOOM!’ Muscles shouted, then laughed as if he’d just heard the funniest joke ever. Or seen someone walk into a glass door. ‘Only kidding. Go,’ he said to me.

  I opened the brown bag.

  APPLES.

  THREE APPLES.

  THREE BIG APPLES.

  THREE BIG, JUICY APPLES.

  Apples like the ones I’d blagged, except more edible. An apple for each of us. My hand rummaged further. Hidden underneath the apples were two, TWO, inhaler medicines for Mum. Packaged up with the fruit, subtle.

  ‘Want one?’ I said, holding out an apple towards Muscles.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do, Law. Don’t mind if I do.’

  I tossed it to him.

  ‘Pav?’

  Pav almost took my arm off he was so quick to grab the apple off me.

  We all bit into our apples together. Munched and crunched in silence. I could feel the apple drop into my empty stomach. Joy of joys. Muscles’ mouth was so mammoth that he ate his apple in about three bites. Core and everything.

  ‘You’ll be hearing from The Big Man soon,’ Muscles said as he stood up to leave.

  Pav threw me the eyes.

  ‘Can I see him tomorrow?’ I said.

  ‘You can’t just come round, Law. It doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘I just want to thank him,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll thank him for you,’ Muscles said.

  ‘No, I’d rather thank him myself. Tomorrow’s good because I can come to his block after school.’

  ‘He might not be available, Law.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances,’ I said.

  ‘He take chance,’ Pav said.

  ‘Right, I’ll tell him, but he might not be happy and, like I said, he might not be available.’

  ‘That’s fine with me.’

  Muscles stared at us in silence. He spat out a couple of apple pips as if he were firing bullets at us.

  Notepads, eh?

  Pens, eh?

  Apples, eh?

  Each gift cocked and loaded.

  19

  Take Down

  It was utterly terrifying. I didn’t wait until after school – I went that same night, without Pav. I wasn’t able to knock on the front door; I didn’t even get that far. Some guy whom I’d never laid eyes on was standing at the top of the landing – waiting for me? I don’t know – and frogmarched me right back down the stairs. My feet barely touched the steps. Outside he put a firm hand on the back of my dome and bundled me into the rear of a car, just as they do with criminals leaving court after being accused of some horrendous crime. Inside the car sat another man whom I hadn’t seen before either. He grinned. I smiled back.

  ‘All right, kiddo?’ he said.

  But before I had time to say, Eh, not really, mister, he’d chucked some sort of blanket or hood over my head and forced me down on the seat. I struggled to breathe. I didn’t want to die. This wasn’t my time. I wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t prepared. I’d too much to do before all that death palaver hit me.

  I survived that car journey by taking tiny short breaths: in through the nose and out slowly through the mouth.

  I didn’t speak.

  I didn’t ask my usual questions.

  I didn’t annoy anyone.

  I concentrated on breathing.

  The driver and blanket man didn’t speak either.

  The car didn’t speed or swerve or roar its engine.

  A tear ran from my left eye over the bridge of my nose and down on to my right cheek. I realised
I had no idea who these people were or where they were taking me. I had no Pavel Duda by my side to make me feel brave.

  When the car came to a halt I didn’t try to get up. The hand on my head prevented this anyway. Not a word was muttered. Stay calm, Charlie, stay calm, son. The driver got out. I heard his feet crunching through the gravel as he walked around to my side. The blanket man lifted his hand from my head.

  ‘Time to go, kiddo,’ he said.

  The driver opened the door and the blanket man shoved me out. The air rushing up through the blanket/hood was like having the kiss of life. How good is air? I thought he was going to whip the thing off my head but he didn’t. I took in huge man-size gulps of air.

  The ground wasn’t smooth. Because the driver had his hand on my head I was staring at my feet, which kicked away little stones as they walked. My shoes were getting dirty. Mum would go spare. If dirt got on my trousers it would be enough for a quick skelp on the kisser.

  Mum and Dad would be deranged with worry if I didn’t come home. Since the Old Country troops stormed into Little Town they wanted to know my every move. I knew Mum was suspicious about the sudden appearance of the inhalers I’d given her that evening – she knew no shop in Little Town could supply these. She didn’t ask where I’d got them, a sure sign that she knew she wouldn’t like the answer. I suppose her ability to breathe properly was more important. I could say I’d been out doing some pre-school studying because I wanted to hit the ground running, or something. But out all night? No chance could I blag that one.

  One of the heavies opened a heavy metal door. It made that chinking noise when pulled, dragging metal along the ground. Inside, the place smelt of decay and unemployment, the pong that suggested hard work used to happen a while back. We walked about twenty steps. Stopped. Another door opened; this time it sounded like a shopping trolley being yanked along the concrete. I was pushed in. Another room? The shopping trolley door rattled closed.

  ‘Right, time to breathe,’ the driver said, and pulled the blanket/hood from my head. Everything was black. Talk about relief! Talk about uncontrollable terror! Everything was pitch-black. We were standing in a rickety old lift. Going down. Super fast. Going down below the ground. To the depths of Hell? My eyes had difficulties adjusting. Strangely, I was calm.

  ‘Where are we?’ I asked.

  ‘No questions, son,’ the driver said.

  ‘But …’

  The man put his finger to his mouth.