by Bali Rai
‘RONNIE! What the hell are you doing calling that bastard?’
My mum rarely swore and when she did it was time to duck for cover. Nanny, to his credit or stupidity, chose to ignore her and said that he’d be back in a moment. As he left the room my mum turned on me.
‘Are you totally stupid, Billy?’
‘What?’
‘Billy! Don’t play me. Why the hell haven’t you just called the police?’
I looked at her, seeing rage in her normally calm brown eyes, realizing that Nanny hadn’t told her about the bent copper, Ratnett. ‘There’s something you don’t know, Mum,’ I said.
‘And what is that exactly?’ she said, all sarcastic and totally not like my mum.
But then again she was angry. I forgave her and then told her everything that I had told Nanny. She listened wide-eyed and disbelieving until Nanny came back in and finished my story for me.
My mum considered things for a while after we had finished and then spoke in a quiet whisper. ‘I’m assuming that Maddix is helping you find this Busta character?’
‘Yes, man. Is what other reason me could have to call him?’
‘The past is best left buried, Nan,’ she said, leaving me wondering what she was talking about.
‘The past is useful sometimes, Rita,’ he replied.
She turned to look at me and then back to Nanny. ‘You have until midnight – like you said. And you leave DI Elliot to me. Me and the girls. You aren’t taking them out to play your testosterone-fuelled games.’
‘Cool,’ I said, hoping that Della would see it the same way and not smack me in the mouth.
‘Listen, baby. I man nah go let the yout’ dem get hurt. Is me yuh a deal wid.’ Nanny was trying to reassure her.
‘Yes, I know it’s you. But it’s a you that got left behind years ago and I don’t want it back.’
I realized what they were on about. Nanny’s old life. Nanny smiled a gentle, warm and caring smile and put his arms round my mum. He kissed her on the head and hugged her. ‘I man just dust off an old coat, Rita. When me done me gonna put it back where it belong. Jah know.’
‘Maybe He does,’ conceded my mum. ‘Just as long as you do too.’
I sent Jas a text around half-seven, telling him to meet us by the precinct near the community centre at nine. He’d be safe there – there’d be loads of people around cos of Claire’s murder; murder always brought out all the rubberneckers and gossips – Nanny called them the ‘carry go bring comes’. He replied straight away – saying that he’d be there for half-nine, after kick boxing. My mum braved telling Della and Ellie that they were to wait with her. Ellie seemed quite relieved at the idea but Della complained and didn’t stop until my mum spoke to her on her own. I don’t know what she said to Della but my mum has a way with words, believe me. Nanny, Will and me left the house just gone eight, after another couple of calls from Ronnie Maddix.
Outside the night air was warm and the sounds of the ghetto rang in my ears as we walked into town, ready to meet with our city’s answer to Public Enemy Number One. Nanny spoke little as we walked, his face fixed in a way that suggested he was determined to find Busta and make him talk. I looked at Will a few times and saw in his expression the same fear and excitement that I had. We were on a mission, man. A mission that I knew was going to be fun in a perverse way. Fun precisely because it would be so dangerous. My mum had been right about boys and testosterone.
thirty:
wednesday, 8 p.m.
DELLA WAS GOING mad until Billy’s mum spoke to her and calmed her down. I don’t know what she said to her but it worked. Now that Nanny and the lads had left the house Della kept going on about ‘boys and testosterone’ and how she wouldn’t have slowed them down if they had taken her with them. ‘I mean, ain’t as if I can’t handle myself, is it?’
I agreed with her – just to stop her from going off again. When Della threw a paddy, she really went for it. And that was the last thing I wanted. Billy’s mum told me that we were going to have to tell my parents everything we knew. I didn’t want to but she insisted, saying that it was wrong to keep them in the dark. The thing was – I didn’t want to worry them. They had been through so much before when I’d been kidnapped, especially my mum. I didn’t want to add to that. I mean, I’m a real sop when it comes to my family anyway. The smallest thing makes me cry. Once, Christopher fell over and cut his knee open and I cried for ages – not because I thought he would die or anything like that, but because I thought it would upset my mum. I know it’s silly but then sometimes I am silly. How was I going to tell them that the girl who had been made to look after me when I was tied up had been murdered? A girl who was only about the same age as me. They’d probably seen the telly by now anyway and that would make them worry to start with. What I had to tell them – well, that would just add to it.
In the end Billy’s mum went round and got them, explaining everything, and then answering their questions about Sally, Claire and Busta. My mum reacted just as I had thought she would. She started to cry and that made me cry before my dad told us both not to worry. He asked Rita whether the police had been informed. Billy’s mum said that she was going to call DI Elliot and outlined Nanny’s plan to get Busta to talk. Then she told him about the policeman who was involved – Ratnett. That made my dad stop in his tracks. He sat and thought about things for a while before telling Rita that Nanny was right.
‘I just hope he can get this Busta person to talk,’ he told her.
‘Don’t worry, Brian – if anyone can get him to talk, it’s Nanny,’ she replied.
My dad looked at me and Della and then smiled. ‘At least you two haven’t gone with them,’ he said.
Della was just about to start moaning again when I piped up, ‘I know. Well, someone has to be here to do all the girlie things. Like make the tea.’
‘And bake the buns?’ added my dad, smiling.
‘Ooh yes! Buns and cakes and pots of stew.’ I was playing a game.
‘Knock it off, Ellie,’ said Della, trying to be serious but not managing to hold back a smile too.
‘Oh, Della, don’t be a grouchy old woman. Please?’
‘Ellie . . .’
I pouted at her. ‘I know – stop being silly. Is it any wonder you’re always so angry?’
‘I am not.’
‘Yes you are.’
‘No, I’m not!’
Billy’s mum groaned. ‘You two!’
Della and I exchanged glances and then burst out laughing. I know it wasn’t the most normal thing to do in our situation – but there’s that old saying, isn’t there? You’ve got to make the best of a bad situation. My dad was always telling me that when life gave you lemons, the best thing to do was to make lemonade. That’s what I was trying to do – make lemonade.
After a while I started wondering what Billy was doing and whether they had found Busta yet. It was half past nine when I looked at my phone to check the time and Billy’s mum decided that she should call DI Elliot. She asked Della if she had seen the card with Elliot’s number on it.
‘It was just there,’ replied Della, pointing at some random spot on the table where there was nothing at all.
‘Oh, don’t tell me Billy took it with him.’
‘Knowing him,’ said Della, ‘he probably has.’
‘Silly old man,’ I added, grinning.
My dad told Rita not to worry and to call the station to get DI Elliot’s number that way. They didn’t have to bother. About ten minutes later the doorbell rang. Billy’s mum went to answer it, then returned with DI Elliot right behind her.
‘I thought I’d just drop round in the light of what’s happened,’ the policewoman was saying. She looked around, smiling when she saw me with my mum and dad and then turning back to Billy’s mum. ‘There’s a few things I need to ask you. About the girl who your son found beaten up. And about some other things, too.’
Billy’s mum looked at me and then Della. ‘I think you had
better sit down,’ she told DI Elliot. ‘You’re not going to like this . . .’ And she began to tell DI Elliot exactly what Nanny and Billy had told her . . .
thirty-one:
wednesday, 9 p.m.
RONNIE MADDIX WAS waiting for us outside a bar in the city centre. It was one of the twenty or so bars and clubs where his door firm ran the bouncers and he was easy to spot. He was scary to look at. Six feet four inches of muscles and no neck at all. He was a monster. I had always thought of Will as big, but if there had been a gold medal for size given out that night, it would have gone to Ronnie. Nanny told me and Will to hang back so that he could speak to Ronnie alone. No way were we going to complain when we saw the size of Nanny’s friend.
Will whistled. ‘Bwoi, he is one big mofo, man.’
‘You can say that again, Will,’ I replied. ‘He makes you look like a baby, my dread.’
‘Hey – he ain’t that big, you know.’
I looked at Will incredulously. ‘Get lost, man! He’s twice the size of you!’
Will mumbled under his breath but didn’t bother to challenge my assertion. He couldn’t.
As Nanny reached him, Ronnie gave him a bear hug, smothering Nanny so that all that remained in sight were his dreads. He let go, looked Nanny up and down, then hugged him again. Eventually they walked away from the door and the prying ears of the other doormen and spoke quietly together.
Will turned to me, puzzled. ‘What’s up there then?’ he asked.
‘How d’you mean, man?’
‘Nanny and Maddix? I didn’t know Nanny knew them kinda people.’
I didn’t know what to tell Will. I had no idea that Ronnie Maddix and Nanny were mates either and, let’s face it, Nanny was my dad to all intents and purposes. ‘I dunno how they know each other,’ I replied eventually. ‘Ask him, man.’
‘Who – Nanny or Maddix?’ asked Will.
‘The one that scares you the least,’ I said, smiling.
‘Very funny, you wanker.’
We waited for another five minutes or so, not exchanging another word. Nanny took something from Ronnie and put it in his pocket – a piece of paper or something similar – and came back over to us.
Ronnie watched him and then followed. He looked from me to Will and grinned before speaking in his distinct tone. ‘Awright, lads? How’s tricks then?’
‘All right,’ I said, looking at Nanny. Will just shrugged and nodded his head.
Ronnie let out a gruff laugh. ‘It’s cool, lads – I ain’t gonna hurt yer. Your man there,’ he started, nodding in Nanny’s direction, ‘is an old friend of mine. Brother, you could say.’
‘Yeah, man,’ laughed Nanny. ‘We get we stripes together nuh, man.’
‘At Her Majesty’s Pleasure – numbers 54 an’ 46’ added Ronnie, talking about some old ska tune Nanny had. 54-46 was a prison number. He gave me a funny look and then turned to Nanny. ‘This Rita’s kid?’ he asked, nodding at me this time.
Nanny looked at me, as if to ask permission. I shrugged. ‘Yeah, man, him call Billy.’
‘Billy,’ repeated Ronnie. He looked away for a split second and then put his huge arm round my shoulder. ‘I know yer old man, son. Lynden. Works with me.’
I looked at him and edged away. I hadn’t seen my old man in years and he hadn’t bothered to come see me. The fact that he worked with Ronnie Maddix washed right over me. ‘Lucky you,’ I said, hoping that he wouldn’t take offence.
I had nothing to worry about. He just laughed out loud and hugged me to him. ‘Just like yer mam, in’t yer? Lots of bottle.’
I waited until he let me go before I could take my next breath.
‘Him cool, Ronnie,’ said Nanny. ‘How dat bwoi, Lynden?’
‘Same old Lynden, man. I’ll give him your regards,’ replied Ronnie, looking at me and raising his eyebrow.
Despite what I said, the thought of saying at least a hello to my old man was exciting, although it was tempered by a feeling of guilt that I had because of Nanny. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Nanny read my mind.
‘Yuh tell dat bwoi him pickney say hello. Tell him come check fe him soon.’
‘I’ll make sure of it,’ smiled Ronnie.
‘Right, we gone,’ declared Nanny.
Ronnie put his massive, gold-ringed hand on Nanny’s shoulder. ‘Remember, dread, anything you need. If you need me to come with yer . . .’
‘Nah, it cool, Ronnie. If I need yuh I man will call.’
‘You sure? I mean, it’s no bother. Might be a laugh.’
At that Will looked at me and frowned. The man really was a nutter.
‘Nuh worry yuhself, Ronnie. Jus’ tek care, y’hear? Respec’, bredda.’
‘Yeah, respec’ and all that. Although I can never understand that Jamaican you speak, mate. You never talked that way at school.’
Nanny laughed along with his friend and then we set off for the community centre. Back to the ghetto.
On the way I sent Jas a text, confirming that we were on our way to the centre. He didn’t reply but then I hadn’t expected him to. We walked back over the ring road, via the bridge and into the heart of the two huge estates that made up one half of the ghetto. On every corner there were gangs of kids and older crews hanging around or dealing in five-pound bags of weed. Some of the kids smoked cigarettes and spliffs and one or two had cans of super strong lager in their hands. If we hadn’t been on a mission, I’m sure Nanny would have lectured them about the perils of alcohol and that – but we had somewhere to go, someone to see. Further along, a lad who couldn’t have been more than twelve tried to sell Will a mobile phone. Will gave him a look that sent the lad running back to the badly lit stairwell where his mates stood watching. Even in the dim light I could make out an older lad, urging his charges to go out and earn him a living. People like that were all over our area – like predators, ready to bite at the first opportunity.
We reached the community centre just after quarter to ten but Jas hadn’t arrived. The side of the centre, by the car park, had been blocked off with police tape. The fluorescent yellow strips stood out under the streetlights and around them stood more gangs of kids, looking at the spot where another local had become an overnight star. Most of them had probably seen Claire around the streets – some probably knew her. One or two might even know what had happened to her and who had done it. But not a single one would have spoken to the police, other than to cuss them and call them names. That was the state of things. Nanny used to call it the ‘writing on the wall’. It was an indication of the times in which we had to live. Sad but true.
I snapped back to the matter in hand and rang Jas, only to be told that I had run out of credits on my phone. Will got his out, but he had no credit either. The only option was a phone box, although finding one that worked was a mission in itself. Nanny fiddled for something in his jacket and pulled out a mobile.
I looked at him, astonished. ‘Where’d you get that?’ I asked, pointing at the phone.
‘Me just have it, man. Lying around.’
‘But you’re always banging on about how mobiles rot your brain and that!’
‘Is fe emergency use only, man.’
I grinned. ‘But surely it’s a fruit of Babylon?’ I said, winding him up.
‘Rest yuhself, Billy. Babylon nah have no fruit.’
Will started laughing. ‘Never mind about Babylon, Nanny. If that was my phone, I’d hide it too! It’s a brick, man!’
It was true. Nanny’s phone was twice the size of mine and looked like the sort of thing you got when you first signed up for one. Wack. Nanny frowned. ‘At least me have credit ’pon mine,’ he said.
‘I’d rather hunt for a working phone box,’ I said, still grinning.
‘Jus’ call Jas nuh, man! We don’t have time to mess about.’
Nanny was right, of course. I dialled Jas’s number and waited. The connection took ages and when it did hook up with Jas’s phone, the answer service came on. ‘He must be on his
way,’ I said. ‘It’s on answer.’
‘Then we better wait fe him,’ replied Nanny, sitting down on the steps of the community centre and taking his phone back from me.
Nanny dialled up someone that he called Tek Life, speaking for a brief few moments. As he put his brick back in his pocket a young Asian lad on a mountain bike rode up to us. He looked at me and Will and then at Nanny. ‘Which one of you guys is Billy?’ he asked, his face all serious.
I moved towards him. ‘I am,’ I said. ‘What do you want?’
‘I don’t want nuttin’ from you, guy.’ Pure attitude. Attitude that disappeared when Will grabbed him by the collar. ‘Hey! Hey! Leave me alone, man!’ squealed the kid, trying to get loose.
‘What do you want?’ I asked again, getting a bad feeling in my stomach.
‘Man jus’ tol’ me to give you dis letter, you know.’ He handed over an envelope.
I tore it open and pulled out a sheet of A4 paper. I read it and then grabbed the kid by the throat. ‘WHO GAVE YOU THIS?’
The kid tried to talk but couldn’t until I let him go. I handed the letter to Will and then grabbed the kid again, this time by his jacket, slapping his baseball cap off his head. ‘Tell me, you little—’
‘Weren’t me, man! Some white guy gave it me. Told me to wait for you lot. It’s nuttin’ to do with me, man. He just give me a fiver to deliver it – I swear that’s the truth!’
‘What white man?’ I shouted, as Nanny read the letter too.
‘Dunno! Just some man, innit.’
I let the kid go and looked at Will and Nanny. The letter told us that someone had Jas and said that I would be next – unless I came up with the money. My mind was going haywire. Who had Jas and what had happened to him? This was serious. First Ellie and now Jas. The Crew was in deep, man. I shivered as I remembered Claire. They had already killed her. What would stop them from doing the same to Jas. Just the thought nearly made me puke.