Purple People

by Kate Bulpitt

  ‘Look, I uh, I’m sorry about what happened to Dunc, I am. I’d never want to get him, you know…’

  ‘Purple.’

  ‘Yeah. I’d swap places if I could. I’ll do what you need to try and get him changed back.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’

  Eve watched Simon, soap suds on his wrists. The kitchen clock ticked.

  There was a cough from the living room; Eve moved her chair back.

  ‘Shall I dry?’ she said.

  Simon shrugged.

  Eve reached for a tea towel, wonkily illustrated with the Wetland Birds of Britain, seemingly crowded in a rather small pond. The grumpy-looking geese were joined by a bow-legged heron and a mandarin duck with an unusual mohican.

  Sponge in hand, Simon called, ‘You alright, Dunc?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Simon nodded in satisfaction. He and Eve addressed the pots and plates, if not each other, oblivious to how much pleasure Duncan was taking from their quiet cooperation.

  *

  Duncan had got changed, into freshly-scented, freshly-laundered clothes, and sat on the edge of the sofa, mentally preparing himself to venture into the outside world.

  ‘There’s no rush,’ said Eve, aware that she was back-tracking on herself, but feeling anxious as to what awaited him.

  ‘I should go. Get it over and done with.’

  ‘I’m gonna come too, and tell them what happened,’ said Simon.

  ‘Are you?’ Eve asked.

  ‘No,’ said Duncan, ‘there’s no point risking you being Turned, and two of us being Purple.’

  ‘He should come,’ said Eve, firmly.

  ‘Whatever you want, mate,’ said Simon.

  ‘You should come,’ Eve told him.

  ‘Eve, really… it’s fine, it’s noble of Simon to offer, but I think we should see what happens without getting anyone else into trouble.’

  Eve looked at Duncan. Noble. Duncan was the noble one.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Duncan. ‘Come if you want to, Si, but don’t say anything ’til we get an idea of the lay of the land.’

  *

  Duncan got out of the car.

  ‘Thanks for driving,’ he told Simon.

  ‘Welcome.’

  ‘Actually, are you allowed to drive?’ Duncan asked.

  Simon grinned. ‘Now that you mention it, nah, not really. My licence was suspended. But no one’ll know.’

  ‘We’re at a police station!’ Eve exclaimed, though feeling that in actual fact Simon’s behaviour was providing some welcome light relief.

  Under his hood, Duncan’s eyes cast around. There were a handful of people nearby, some coming out of the shop across the road, others walking along the pavement that passed outside the station, but no one paying attention to them. The drive had been uneventful, too – Duncan in the back, hood up, while Simon and Eve had sat in the front (‘I don’t wanna look like a cab driver,’ Simon had said).

  Outside the building were glass-doored noticeboards, filled with leaflets about crime prevention, missing kittens, and not leaving dogs in hot cars, all held in place by drawing pins, at wonky angles, stabbed into the felt-covered board with varying success. Behind one glass door was a photocopied sheet featuring a blurry photo of an iguana wearing what appeared to be a small leather jacket. Eve peered closer. ‘KEITH IS MISSING! Lost at the Parkside Festival. Reward available for information leading to his return,’ said the notice. Eve pointed it out to Duncan, thinking it might make him smile.

  ‘I’d run away too, if I was a lizard in a jacket,’ said Duncan.

  Eve imagined the iguana at a gig with the mohican-topped mandarin duck.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Eve asked him.

  ‘Okay, I guess.’

  ‘Sure? Ready to go in? We can wait for a bit if you want to gather yourself.’

  ‘I think I’m as gathered as I’ll ever be.’

  They were walking towards the door when Duncan stopped and took a step back.

  ‘What if I don’t get to leave here? What if they put me in prison?’

  ‘For a scrap in the street?’ Eve replied. ‘I shouldn’t have thought so.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Duncan muttered. ‘I’m under house arrest anyway.’

  ‘You can go out,’ said Simon. ‘Who cares what people think?’

  Eve jabbed her brother in the ribs.

  ‘What?’ he said, turning to her. ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Shall we go in?’ Eve asked Duncan.

  He nodded and they moved towards the door.

  *

  In the corridor were what appeared to be cat’s bowls of food and water. Eve was buoyed by that. Maybe this won’t be so bad, she thought. Maybe we’ll bump into Frankie or his dad.

  The officer behind the main desk stared at Duncan expectantly, not saying a word, as he approached the counter. Eve’s heart sank.

  ‘Hi,’ Duncan said hesitantly. ‘I’m here to…’

  The officer put her elbows on the counter, waiting for him to continue.

  Duncan cleared his throat. ‘I’m here to report an incident I was involved in.’

  The officer nodded. ‘Clearly. You’ll need to complete these forms.’ She looked to either side of Duncan, her head turning as though at a tennis match, taking in Eve and Simon. ‘And you two?’

  ‘I’m here for moral support,’ said Eve, who couldn’t help herself and added, ‘He might be innocent you know.’

  ‘There are no innocent people Turned,’ said the officer.

  Eve peered towards the policewoman’s name badge.

  ‘That’s not actually true, Officer Geib,’ she said. Simon looked at Eve, agog. ‘I met someone who’d been accidentally Turned and was being Turned back.’

  ‘Much as I’d love to stand here chatting,’ said Officer Geib, her expression hardening, ‘was there something else I can do for you?’

  She cast her attention towards Simon.

  For a moment Simon said nothing, staring stonily at Officer Geib, adamantine. Eve directed a Hard Stare at him, not that he was looking at her.

  ‘Look, sunshine, I can tell you’re not thrilled to be here, and honestly, neither am I. I could be at home, cutting the pattern for my friend’s wedding dress, which is a relaxing way to spend some time, let me tell you. But here we are, so why not spit it out, eh? Before this one – ’ the officer pointed at Eve – ‘has kittens.’

  Duncan nervously smoothed the creased form with his purple hand.

  Simon may have caught this and felt a jolt of conscience, eventually admitting, ‘I was at the same incident. Part of it.’

  ‘Were you now.’

  ‘Does he need to fill in a form too?’ Eve asked (she knew if Duncan hadn’t been standing between them, Simon would have kicked her).

  Simon looked mortified, the police officer amused.

  ‘Let’s see, shall we. Now, you,’ she turned to Duncan. ‘What date did you find yourself Turned?’

  Duncan was looking pale. ‘On Saturday.’

  ‘Right.’ She made a note. ‘You’ll need to go with my colleague.’ She called to a baby-faced officer hovering nearby. ‘Rog, we’ve got another one.’

  The young policeman came forward. ‘This way, sir,’ he said, giving Duncan a supportive smile, and leading him away.

  Officer Geib watched them go, then turned back to Eve and Simon. ‘You can both take a seat,’ she said.

  ‘What a witch,’ said Simon, under his breath, as they made their way to the waiting area.

  Eve smiled.

  There were posters covering the walls, mainly mugshots of successfully caught or surrendered Lavs, interspersed with other notices, including a poster featuring pairs of comically darting eyes, shiftily advising you to be vigilant and watch your belongings at all times. In the most prominent position, underneath the clock, a low-fi sign – a board with movable characters, like the sort you’d see displaying a chip shop menu – proclaimed that recorded crimes in this area were down by fourteen per cent
since the Purple initiative had begun. There’s a sign that’s been located in haste, Eve thought. There were no other Purple people in the waiting room; Eve guessed they must all be instantly escorted away, like Duncan.

  Simon was agitated. His knee jigged up and down, and he jangled the car keys in his pocket. Obviously not the most calming environment for him, Eve thought.

  ‘I can’t believe you just dropped me in it, as soon as we walked in the door!’ he said, not quite as nastily as usual; more incredulous. ‘Old habits die hard, or something?’ He sighed, resigned. ‘You always got me into trouble.’

  ‘You always got yourself into trouble.’

  A pause.

  ‘Dad liked you more.’

  ‘What? Are you kidding me? He was equally disinterested in both of us.’

  ‘Yeah. There was always another woman.’

  ‘Or three.’

  ‘Would’ve been funny to have a normal family, like Dunc’s.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Eve. ‘And just imagine, we wouldn’t be the fine, well-balanced people we are now.’

  With a tut, Simon said, ‘There you go again, digging at me.’

  ‘Actually, I did honestly mean both of us.’

  ‘What? Miss Perfect having an identity crisis?’

  ‘Simon, can we just stop? I can’t be bothered, I really can’t. And this is hardly the time or place.’

  ‘Fine. Yeah.’

  There was a crack and a whir as a fancy coffee machine (or a formerly fancy one: there were various pieces of tape holding bits together, and Eve guessed it might have been from the ‘client-serving’ private days) began spitting out some frothy liquid.

  ‘I meant to say, by the way, it was great how you stuck at the hospital with Mum.’

  ‘Yeah, well… I didn’t have anywhere else to be.’

  ‘She really appreciated it.’

  ‘I know.’

  The machine hissed.

  ‘Dunc said you were wondering how they do it, Turning.’

  Eve glanced around to see if anyone might have heard.

  ‘I am. Which is tricky, when they obviously don’t want anyone finding out,’ Eve whispered, wondering if the station was bugged.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Simon, whose interest, Eve guessed, must have been piqued at the idea of defying authority. Quietly, with chin down, he asked, ‘So what can you do?’

  Eve shrugged. ‘Not much to go on. I need a blabbermouth or some amazing ISON footage.’

  ‘Huh,’ said Simon.

  There was some yelling from outside, and then two officers entered, trying to control a man who was shouting and kicking, his feet barely touching the floor as he scrabbled, the officers each gripping one side of him and trying to keep him upright.

  ‘Cells or straight to Turning?’ said Officer Geib.

  One of the officers replied, ‘Given the knife he was waving about, Turning.’

  ‘Right you are,’ she said.

  The scrabbling man bellowed an ear-piercing ‘No!’ as he was dragged along, flapping and flailing.

  ‘You sure?’ Eve heard one of the frogmarching officers question the other. ‘He’s off his face, and, well, Turning him isn’t going to help him kick whatever he’s on, is it? Or what if he’s mental health?’

  Her colleague replied, ‘Then they can Re-Turn him. But if he’s going to be prancing about with a knife, he’s as good a bet as any for people to be warned about.’

  They veered towards the corridor Duncan had been led down, disappearing out of Eve’s sight; shortly afterwards, a door slammed.

  ‘You,’ Officer Geib called, nodding towards Simon. ‘Come back to the desk.’

  Eve followed behind Simon.

  ‘We won’t be pursuing your activity at the scene of your colleague’s offence.’

  ‘Is that right…’ said Simon, hesitating, as though this was a bluff of some sort.

  ‘That’s interesting,’ said Eve. ‘Do you have any information as to why?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just so we know,’ Eve asked, ‘could the situation change?’

  ‘Not at the moment,’ said the policewoman, pursing her lips. ‘You’re free to leave.’

  ‘We’ll wait for our friend,’ said Eve.

  They returned to their seats.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Simon, ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘Me neither. Curious,’ said Eve. ‘And lucky for you.’

  The doors opened again and a woman raced in, a small, reptilian face peering out from under her arm. As she rushed up to reception, she announced, ‘We’ve found Keith! I know you’ve been trying to find him, so I wanted to let you know. Tear down the posters, he’s home, safe and well!’

  ‘Spectacular,’ the policewoman said, deadpan.

  ‘At least there are some happy endings around here,’ said Eve, glancing at the clock, and wondering how long they were going to keep hold of Duncan.

  *

  ‘Right,’ said Eve, ‘tell us exactly what happened.’

  She, Simon and Duncan were now sitting in the car outside the police station, Duncan having finally, after three hours, been released. This time Eve sat in the back.

  ‘Well, first, as you saw, they gave me some forms to fill out. One had lots of questions about the crime I believed I was committing when I was Turned.’

  ‘Believed you were committing? Your interpretation of what happened, whether you’re innocent or not?’

  ‘No, more like, was there more than one crime I was involved in. There were multiple pages, so you could list different incidents.’

  ‘Why would someone list more than one? No one’s going to own up to more than they need to, are they?’

  Duncan shrugged. ‘I think they must have a log or something, so you list where you were, how many people you were with, what happened, and then they compare notes with – I don’t know, some sort of database maybe. They knew things about what had happened already, so whoever the police officer was who Turned me, he must have written up a report. They must have a list of the people they’ve Turned, and where, and then when you turn yourself in, they tick you off.’

  ‘Did they have pictures, or ISON footage or anything?’

  ‘They didn’t say.’

  ‘So how can they prove you’ve actually done anything? They must have evidence. What if you’d said that you were innocent? People must be saying that, denying having done anything wrong. And whose word would you be speaking against? They’ve not got an arresting officer, have they?’

  ‘They didn’t mention that, either.’

  ‘So they don’t show you any evidence, there’s no police statement about what you did that you actually see, they just ask you to own up to something?’

  ‘Right. But they behaved as though they’d already got the evidence, that it’d already been filed, no question. They knew what I’d done.’

  ‘But what if you’d contested it?’

  ‘Wasn’t an option. The start of the form says something like “you have been caught committing a criminal offence”, then “please state here all criminal or disruptive activity in which you participated prior to finding you had been Turned. Please be aware that your guilt is not in question; your offence has already been documented.”’

  ‘So some undercover officers are going round Turning people, then writing notes when they get back to the station. That’s putting a lot of trust in their officers. It’s inevitable that they’ll get it wrong sometimes, if not a lot of the time. And also, if they have everything so well documented, how is it that they let Simon go, when he was there, and they must have seen that?’

  Simon said, ‘Dunno, it’s weird.’

  ‘Did they say whether any of the others who were involved have been Turned too?’

  ‘The form asks you about that. I said I didn’t know.’

  ‘Did you mention Simon?’

  Duncan shook his head. ‘There didn’t seem to be any point, and he hasn’t been Turned, so I didn’t need to p
ut anything about him on the form.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ said Simon.

  Eve considered this. If the scheme was being used as a deterrent, Turning any one of a group involved in an incident would surely affect how the others went on to behave. And if so, then obviously that was as effective as multiple Turns.

  She gave Duncan’s arm a soft squeeze of solidarity.

  ‘What else happened?’

  ‘They took me to an interview room. There were two police officers, one about our age, maybe a bit younger, the other quite a bit older. They looked over the forms, had me talk through my statement and say exactly what had happened. They asked if there were any other occasions when it might have been that I was Turned – I guess they’re definitely trying to get people to admit to as much as they can while they have them there – and I said that I absolutely hadn’t been involved in any other trouble.’

  ‘Did they say anything about why you weren’t just arrested at the time?’

  ‘I asked about that, and they looked a bit surprised. The younger one said, that’s not how this works. We can process more people this way, rather than stopping and arresting offenders and bringing them back to the station each time.’

  ‘Process?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What happens next, do you have to go to court?’

  Despite having told him it was unlikely, Eve was fretting about the looming spectre of prison, but daren’t bring another shadow into the conversation. So she was relieved when Duncan replied.

  ‘No. They said mine wasn’t a custodial offence.’

  ‘Well that’s good! That’s something.’

  ‘I have an appointment at court. As it was a fight and not something worse I don’t have a trial.’

  ‘That’s a positive thing, isn’t it? But if you’re not going to prison and not having a trial, what are you going to court for? Might you be put on probation, or given community service? And in the meantime, can you get an antidote, or whatever they use, to Turn you back again?’

  Duncan shook his head.

  ‘Oh,’ said Eve, realising. ‘Do you get sentenced to… time like this?’