by Bali Rai
‘Oh stop it! You’re both crazy,’ Ellie laughed – her first laugh since before she had been kidnapped. It was amazing the effect that Della had on her. They messed around for a while longer, calling each other ‘honey’ and ‘sexy’ and then ‘tart’ and ‘minx’, before breaking down in hysterics over a joke that only they found funny. I think it was a girl thing.
Will turned up about half an hour after the other two and nearly got knocked over by Zeus as he entered the room. Zeus had caught the mood and was trying to join in with the hugging and joking and laughter, only his contribution was to jump at Will when the door opened, nearly giving him a cardiac. Will had to sit down on the bed to get over it and as soon as he sat down Della jumped on him too, kissing him on the forehead.
‘Get off me, you fool! ‘Will pushed Della away but she just laughed.
‘Ahh! Is poor Willy feelin’ shy?’
‘Shut up, you weirdo,’ he said, wiping his forehead. ‘You left spit all on me head. Nasty child.’
‘Don’t be upset, Daddy,’ said Ellie jokingly. ‘We’re only playin’ with you . . .’
At that both she and Della burst into more hysterics and Will just shut his eyes and groaned.
Zeus got involved again and jumped onto the bed, using Will as a stepping stone. After that it was chaos in there, as we told jokes, laughed, took the piss out of each other and generally celebrated the fact that we were all back together again.
After we had eaten an Indian takeaway that Jas and Della had gone to fetch, the rest of the Crew went home, leaving me and Ellie alone with Zeus. We talked a bit more about the kidnapping and Ellie told me about the girl, Claire, and how they had spoken about the kidnapper. Ellie described how scared the girl had looked and what the man’s voice had sounded like. Then she told me that he had this really nasty, musty smell that followed him around.
‘It’s kind of like old socks,’ she said, ‘with a mask of aftershave. Like he doesn’t wash but wears deodorant instead.’
‘Sounds sexy,’ I said, trying to make a joke out of it, but the thought of her kidnapper made Ellie shudder and at one point she started to cry again a little bit.
‘I think it was the same man that was in the alley, Billy. The smell was the same.’
‘The one you were telling us about . . .?’
‘I think so.’
My heart sank. If it really was the same man then we weren’t out of the woods yet. Not with the second bag still out there.
Ellie began to cry again. I let her this time, realizing that she needed to let it all out. I couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like for her, being held in that room with some nasty man threatening her, not knowing if he would harm her or not. I sat and listened to her as she spoke about what was going on in her head, then watched her fall asleep before leaving for mine, minus Zeus, who had fallen asleep on Ellie’s bed with her.
I was smiling as I walked back into my mum’s, realizing that Ellie would be well pissed off when she woke up in a pool of Zeus’ saliva, his big, sweaty head resting next to her. Personally, I had barred him from my bed. I loved him and all that but there were limits, you know?
But eventually my mind was taken up with what Ellie had said. If it was the same man – the one from the alley – then we were going to hear a lot more about it. Guaranteed. You know when you hope that things are going to be fine, fully aware that it’s just wishful thinking? Well, that’s the thought that kept me awake until the break of dawn, as I turned things over and over in my mind . . .
I was right to be so concerned.
twenty:
a few days later . . .
IT TOOK ELLIE a few days to get back on her feet and feel able to go outside without getting scared. The first time Della and me went with her. She managed to walk around the block before deciding that it was a horrible day, which it was, and making for my bedroom, where the three of us sat and watched videos on my tiny television. Will was working with his dad during the day and Jas was continually at the gym, skateboarding or at kick boxing.
I had found a job recently, labouring on a building site, but I hadn’t gone back after the first week. I mean, the money had been really good but I’d hated it. The other lads had all been loud-mouthed white blokes who’d thought it was clever to call me Gunga Din and tell me that I was all right for a Paki. After the first four times of telling, I’d had enough. I reckon I would have battered one of them if I had gone back. The trouble was that the agency that had found me the job had then been on my case, offering me two days at this factory and three days at that warehouse. In the end I’d rung them up and told them to get lost. Which they did.
Everything had settled down after Ellie’s rescue and none of the Crew had run into Busta or any of his boys. It was only a matter of time before we did, however. There was no way that Busta would allow us to get away with hassling his gang and messing with his ‘runnin’s’. And there was still the question of the second bag and the people who had grabbed Jas. We had received no new warnings about it, but that was only because the police had been all over us since Ellie’s return, interviewing and assessing and offering her and her family counselling. Victim support groups and that kind of stuff. Ellie had flat refused, though, and I didn’t really blame her. She didn’t need a shrink to tell her why she was feeling so low. It was obvious why. And with my mum and all of us to help her through, what she really needed was just time – any fool could have told her that. And more often than not, I did.
Life in the ghetto just carried on as normal. A mosque had been fire-bombed and a couple of asylum-seekers, Albanians, had been savagely beaten up the road from the community centre. The working girls were still out by the church and got younger every day, while the dealers and the pimps got fat and bought new drug-mobiles, covering them in stupid go-faster stripes, blacking out the windows and installing bass bins that shook my bedroom window as they passed. Things in paradise never changed.
There had also been a newspaper report about thefts from the police custody locker room at the Central Station. Nanny had alerted me to it, laughing about it at the kitchen table one evening, as Ellie and I sat and squabbled over which video to hire from the local shop. Apparently ‘someone’ had stolen into the station late at night and taken drugs and cash. The ‘someone’ had then slipped out without any of the thirty coppers at the station noticing.
‘Man, them mek me laugh till me cry,’ said Nanny gleefully.
‘How did they not see or hear anything being taken?’ I wondered out loud.
Nanny just smirked. ‘Because dem t’ief the drug themself, man.’
‘You what?’
Nanny folded the newspaper and put it down on the table. ‘Just las’ week I man did talk to a friend of mine down by de churchyard an’ him tell me that the Babylon a steal drug from de station and sell them back to the dealer.’
I was shocked. ‘No way, man. That ain’t never happening.’
‘Yes, man. The same ting happen in London and Birmin’ham last year. Me read about it in a yuh mother’s paper – is what you call it? De Guardian.’
‘Well, how come I never saw that? I read the paper every day.’
Ellie yawned at us both and then smiled. ‘Is Nanny talking that way deliberately – so I don’t understand? Is it a boy thing?’
‘Ellie,’ I said, looking at her and shaking my head.
She grinned. ‘Well – it’s not very polite, is it?’ Her grin got wider.
‘Nanny, can you please talk normally – whatever that is – because Ellie would like to join in too and she can’t . . .’ I began.
‘. . . understand you when you talk like Beenie Man,’ finished Ellie.
‘I’m sorry, darlin’. I was jus’ telling Sleepy here about the way de police is selling confiscated drugs back to the dealers.’
Ellie’s grin grew again. Pure Cheshire Cat wide. ‘I know,’ she said, getting up from the table. ‘I just wanted to see if I could get you to speak differently.�
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Nanny and me both looked at her and asked the same question. Why?
‘Because I’m bored,’ she replied.
And with that she left us there, mouths wide open, and went back next door.
Nanny smiled and shook his head. ‘Billy, is one clever little gal yuh have there, y’know.’
‘She isn’t my “gal”, man,’ I protested, but Nanny just gave me a knowing look and then told me that it was time for him to get his ‘spiritual meditation’.
He got up and tapped the paper as he left the table. ‘Like Bob Marley sing, man. Read it in de news.’
Later on Della sent me a text, asking if she could come over for some curry. I sent her one back explaining that neither my mum nor Nanny had made any and, with Nanny out and my mum at an evening class, I was getting my own supper. She came round anyway and we shared a box of spicy chicken wings and chips that we got from a halal takeaway down at the end of my road. The wings were exactly what they were advertised as – HOT – and as we sat at the kitchen table talking, my mouth was burning. I was trying to listen to Della but all I could think about was how much water it would take to make the tingling sensation in my mouth go away.
‘. . . and he reckons I should go for it.’
‘Sorry, Dell, I didn’t hear you,’ I said, getting myself a long glass of water.
‘Which bit?’
‘Er . . . all of it?’
Her eyes lit up. With anger. ‘You what? You mean you ain’t listened to a word of what I’ve been saying?’
‘I couldn’t. My mouth’s burning, man. Tell me again.’
‘No,’ she replied, sulking. ‘Anyway, I came round to talk about something else.’
‘What’s that then?’
‘You gotta promise not to laugh at me though.’
I smiled at her.
‘I mean it, Billy.’
‘Yeah, OK. I promise.’
‘Well, me and . . . er. Me and Jas – we’ve kind of got together, y’know?’
I did know. It would have taken a blind man not to see that there was something going on with those two. All those sly little looks between them. Laughing at each other’s jokes. Always going everywhere together. Yeah, I’d noticed and so had Will and Ellie probably. I didn’t let on to Della though.
‘Really?’ I said, trying and failing to sound surprised.
‘Oh come on, Billy. I know that you know. Don’t feign no surprise.’ She looked me right in the eye.
‘Well, it’s not hard to see, Dell. I mean – all that whispering and giggling like kids and that.’
‘Well, I thought I’d tell you anyway. Officially.’
‘Cool,’ I said, secretly quite pleased that they were going out. It had been on the cards for a while and they did suit each other.
‘It’s just that . . .’ she said, before stopping.
I waited a few beats and then raised my eyebrows at her. ‘Spit it out, Della. What else?’
‘He won’t . . . he doesn’t want to . . .’
I sighed. ‘What?’
‘Well, we’ve been . . . erm . . . we’ve been intimate but not all the way.’
I looked away and then back at her. ‘Hey, kid. More info than I need, y’know?’
‘Billy, you said you wouldn’t take the piss . . .’ She wasn’t angry though. More embarrassed than anything else.
‘I’m sorry . . . go on, finish what you were saying.’
‘He don’t wanna sleep with me yet – least that’s how it seems – and I don’t know why. That’s all.’
I put my stupid cap on. ‘Have you asked him why?’ I knew as soon as it left my mouth what her reaction would be.
‘Billy!’
‘Yeah, I know. Dumb. ’Course you’ve asked him.’
‘He says that he’s not ready yet, but I don’t know. What if he doesn’t fancy me?’ She said it and immediately looked sad.
‘Hey, he fancies the arse off you, kid. Come on, you know the way he looks at you. Maybe he ain’t ready, like he says. Maybe he’s scared.’
She flashed me a cold look. ‘Scared? Of me?’
‘Not you, Della. Scared of the situation. You know, the whole thing about being friends and not wanting to mess that up. Or maybe he just wants to wait until it feels right. Or til you’re sixteen. Out of respect, like.’
‘Oh.’
I told her to talk to Jas. After all, it was his business, not mine, even though he had told me about it already. But Jas had made me promise not to tell Della and I wasn’t about to break a confidence. Thing was, Jas hadn’t ever had sex before – not all the way – which bothered him in case he messed up somehow. He was worried about them falling out too. Scared that it would put a huge dent in their friendship. But it was none of my business and I felt a bit embarrassed, to tell the truth. At the same time, I felt glad too. Happy that Della trusted me enough to tell me intimate stuff. I felt special.
When my mum returned, she took Della home. I told her that I’d call her the next day and left it at that. I didn’t know then that the day after would bring what it did. How could I?
twenty-one:
tuesday, 11.15 a.m.
IT STARTED OFF like any other day. I got out of bed after eleven and sat in the living room drinking coffee and watching interior design programmes and talk shows featuring couples with major problems and no shame, all of which they wanted to share with the world. I was thinking about what I was going to do with my life. About how boring it was to have no job and no school to go to. I knew what I wanted to do – go to college and finish my education, be a journalist or something – but it seemed like a distant dream. I mean, who would take on the challenge of a young man with ‘social problems’ – as my last school principal had put it. Apparently I had no respect for the system, which was fine with me. The system didn’t respect me either so the feeling was mutual. Reciprocal. I yawned through to just after midday and then had a shower before heading down to the kitchen to get some food. Nanny was at the table, looking at a vegetarian cook book and listening to a Bob Marley CD.
‘What you gonna make for us today, Ainsley?’
I began pottering in the cupboards and the fridge, trying to find something appealing to eat. Nanny didn’t even look up at me but grinned anyway.
‘I don’t know, man. I was thinking about aloo gobi but we nuh have any potatoes in de house. I might go to the market.’
‘Cool.’ There was nothing that I wanted so I settled for sawdust, which is what I called muesli.
‘Unless you want go for me?’ said Nanny, closing the book and looking up. ‘You know – justify your existence for today instead of mooching ’round da house.’ His dreads were tied back on his head today and his beard was beginning to show flecks of grey. Salt and pepper dread.
‘I could – I wasn’t planning on going up town but I might. Let me see what Dell and Ellie are doing later.’
‘Ellie pass by this morning. She say that she was going shopping with her muddah.’
‘What time, Nan?’ It was a silly question. She would have been really early – by my clock anyway.
‘’Bout ten. Tol’ me to call you lazy bwoi.’
‘Listen – a man needs his sleep, y’know.’
I couldn’t understand how people got out of bed so early, even on days when they had nothing to do. Ellie never slept in. In fact she was always banging on at me about how I missed the better part of the day by sleeping in like I did. I told her that I was a night person once and she went out and bought me some vampire fangs from a joke shop. And some garlic for herself. Strange child.
‘Sleep is an escape for fools, Billy. Yuh get nuff time fe sleep when yuh dead.’ Nanny was at it again, the dread philosopher, quoting Bob Marley, I think.
‘Well, then I’m a fool, man,’ I replied, sitting at the table with my bowl of wood chippings, dried mouse droppings and plastic strawberries.
I walked into the city centre later that afternoon, past the high-rise blocks and over the
railway bridge, via the concrete carriageway that separated the ghetto from the city. I didn’t actually have anything to do in town other than buy some vegetables for Nanny but I rarely did have anything to do. That was one of the problems with not knowing what you wanted to do with your life. I didn’t have a clue. Going back to school or college crossed my mind again but the thought had the lifespan of a butterfly. Town was like a little escape from boredom and a chance to meet up with a few people I knew. I spent most of the afternoon in and out of HMV and Virgin, looking at CDs that I couldn’t really afford, or window shopping for trainers.
I went into the market and found the veg stall that Nanny always went to. It was run by an old Trinidadian couple and they knew me well. I picked up a few bits and handed them to Mr Dennis, the stall holder.
‘A’ right, Billy. How yuh doin’?’
‘Cool, Mr Dennis. Just shopping for Nanny.’
Mr Dennis asked after Nanny and then my mum. Finally he stuffed everything I had picked up into a green carrier bag and gave it to me. ‘Me t’row in some real hot pepper, too. No charge. Jus’ tell Nanny to keep shy of usin’ too much of dem, yuh hear?’
I grinned. ‘Why, are they mega hot then?’
‘Bwoi, dem is real life Scotch Bonnet – original hot stepper pepper. No substitute, man.’
‘Wicked,’ I replied, hoping that Nanny would use a few later.
‘Tek it easy, Billy.’
‘You too, Mr Dennis. And give my love to your wife.’
As I walked away, Mr Dennis had already moved into a new conversation with his next customer, telling him about the best way to fry plantain. I walked through a W.H. Smith, which linked the market square with one of the main shopping streets in the city, ignoring the security guard who told me I couldn’t use the store as a pathway. Out on the street gangs of kids milled around, getting in the way and on the nerves of the older shoppers. Some of them did this on purpose, trying to get a rise out of some poor shopper, who would react and then get a barrage of obscenities for his or her trouble. In some cases they might even be physically assaulted. I’d seen it happen. I walked calmly past all the gangs, wearing my ‘don’t mess’ mask that everyone in my area developed after a while.