How to Find Home

by Mahsuda Snaith

  ‘You don’t want to get Jules mad,’ I said.

  He shook his head.

  ‘I am not letting her come.’

  I looked over my shoulder. Jules was back with the Big Issue seller, jabbering away as he tried to ignore her.

  ‘She won’t be any trouble,’ I said.

  ‘Ha!’ said Luca.

  I glanced back and saw Jules swinging her army rucksack on to her back. It was about three times bigger than her body. She looked over at us.

  ‘When we setting off, then?’ she yelled. ‘I ain’T GoT aLL dAY!’

  Luca shook his head again. I wanted to tell him to listen, not to me, but to the edge in Jules’s voice.

  This is the thing they don’t tell you about Medusa: she was cursed after being raped by Poseidon in the goddess Athena’s temple. This enraged Athena and it was Medusa who bore the brunt of that rage. It’s always the women who get blamed, you see, and always the women who become hideous and revolting. Like Medusa, Jules had reasons for her venom. But Luca didn’t know any of this and I didn’t have time to explain.

  ‘Time!’ I said loudly. ‘You’re right; it’s relative. The more time we stand here arguing, the less time we have to get on the train.’

  Luca looked at Jules and back at me, then at his watch and then back at Jules. Before I could say anything else he marched towards the footbridge.

  ‘Moody sod, ain’t he?’ Jules said as we tagged along behind.

  The first few nights I was homeless I slept in the trainstation toilets. They smelt of piss and disinfectant but the worst part was the cold tiles. I’d brought a sleeping bag but I’d forgotten silly things such as a hat and a decent pair of gloves. My fingers were tinged blue by morning so on the third night I decided to chance the waiting room and sleep on the wooden slatted seats. When I woke up, two policemen were standing over me in black uniforms. It near gave me a heart attack.

  They started saying things about the law and rough sleeping. I nodded my head and pretended to listen but I couldn’t look at them; I can never look a policeman in the eye. Then they said they’d give me an Anti-Social Behaviour Order if I was found there again. I’d never been threatened with an ASBO before. I didn’t realize you could get one without speaking to anyone, but it turned out being anti-social didn’t only mean being abusive but making people feel uncomfortable, which seeing someone sleeping on a bench could do, apparently. I suppose it makes sense; being homeless is the most anti-social act you can commit.

  I was shaking as they watched me get up. When I felt like this as a child I’d make Rubberband Girls, dozens and dozens of them, to calm my nerves. I’d hide them under my bedsheets or in the bathroom, stick them in flowerpots and desk tidies, hoping my mother wouldn’t find them and throw them away.

  I found one of those Rubberband Girls as the police watched me pack. I hid her down the crack of the bench before they escorted me out, a knotted arm sticking up in a half-wave as I left her behind. I imagined her joining the other Rubberband Girls I’d left behind. I imagined her forming an army.

  And then I stopped shaking.

  Our train was at Platform 2, past the shelter of the station and out alone at the bottom of the tracks. It was a tiny, two-carriage number, blue and boxy like a couple of sardine cans, and, seeing as it was sitting there waiting, we decided to get on.

  Luca was still in a foul mood because Jules had blown a raspberry at him when he’d told her to get a ticket from the machines. He’d had to wipe the spit from his face with a tissue. As we walked through the carriage he didn’t turn to me once. He thought the whole trip was ruined but I knew that with Jules on our team we’d be stronger than ever. She’s small is Jules, but as resourceful as a Swiss army knife, flicking out her arm to reveal a bottle opener or kicking out her leg to reveal a tiny pair of scissors. Luca just needed a bit of time to see that.

  The carriage was empty so Jules said we should take one of the tables. The seats were covered in a synthetic crimson material and had a grey plastic table between them, which left little space to squeeze yourself in. Jules pushed her rucksack on to the window seat and parked herself opposite. I sat next to her and Luca sat next to the bag, both wedging our rucksacks between our legs. He still wouldn’t look at me, staring down the aisle like I was just another passenger. Like we were strangers, which I guess we were.

  Jules began telling us about her aunt in Skegness.

  ‘She’s barmy as a parrot. Now me, I may be on the eccentric side, I admit it, but my aunt Janice is a proper fruit loop. All those bloody china figurines dancing and twirling about in that locked cabinet of hers. Bloody weird.’

  Luca put up his hand, palm towards Jules as if he was a lollipop man and she was traffic. She stopped talking and looked at me like I somehow knew what was going on. Luca looked at the rucksack beside him and then back at Jules.

  ‘Your bag is panting,’ he said.

  Jules scrabbled over the table, flipping the top of her rucksack open to reveal a little wet nose.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Luca said, jumping to the back of his seat.

  ‘Don’t panic, Posh Boy,’ Jules said, pulling Boy from inside. ‘She’s barely bigger than your head.’

  Boy went crazy, front feet tapping against the plastic table, tongue lapping at Jules’s face. I wondered how comfortable the poor thing had been, stuck in that rucksack for who knew how long, but I was dead chuffed that Jules hadn’t left her behind. I made a big fuss over Boy, ruffling behind her ears and nuzzling her with my nose. This seemed to make her more excited, her body twisting from side to side as she tried to lick both mine and Jules’s face. Her tail banged against the table as it wagged furiously.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ said Luca.

  ‘She’s adorable, isn’t she?’ I said.

  ‘A dog,’ he said, gesturing at Boy. ‘A disabled dog.’

  I sat up tall.

  ‘So what if she’s disabled?’ I said.

  ‘She’s going to get us kicked off.’

  ‘Because of her leg?’ Jules said.

  ‘No, because she’s a bloody dog.’

  Boy lurched over the table, tongue heading straight for Luca’s face.

  ‘Keep your dog away from me!’ Luca yelped as she licked him.

  Jules reached over to retrieve Boy.

  ‘She ain’t my dog,’ she said. ‘Her owner pissed off so I’m just—’

  Jules stopped mid-sentence and elbowed me in the side. She was staring ahead at the conductor making his way through the carriage. He was one of those petty official types; you could see it in the neatness of his uniform and the flaring of his nostrils. My throat twisted a little. We hadn’t even set off and we were going to be chucked off the train. As he reached the glass doors, Jules slipped under the table. She’s dead nippy, so by the time he got through to us she was balled up, Boy tucked against her body, her head covered by her camo jacket. They looked like another piece of luggage.

  ‘Tickets from Nottingham, please,’ the man said all loud even though we were the only people in the carriage.

  My heart throbbed with a de-dum-dum. Luca searched his pockets. I didn’t know what he was going to pull out but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. I wrapped my fingers around the handles of my rucksack, ready to run.

  A pair of orange and green tickets emerged between Luca’s fingers. He handed them to the conductor, who scanned them slowly. I waited for him to tell us they were invalid, to either pay up or get off. Instead he stamped them with a curt ‘Thank you’ and then walked on down the carriage.

  Luca must have got the tickets that morning. I thought that maybe I should thank him but he was sitting with a finger propped on his chin like he was having some deep thought so I decided not to disturb him. Instead I looked out of the window as the train pulled away from the station, the platform narrowing, the tracks crisscrossing. As we got further away from Nottingham, we got further away from Rusby. Concrete buildings turned to fields of green crops, his magnetic power
waning.

  A tiny yap came from beneath the table. I looked down at Jules’s eyes peering up at me.

  ‘He gone or what?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ I said. ‘Ages ago.’

  She slipped back out, disgruntled.

  ‘Cheers for telling me.’

  ‘You were so convincing we forgot you were there,’ Luca said.

  Jules sat up tall, taking this as a compliment.

  ‘Bet you’re glad I’m on your mission now, aren’t you, Posh Boy?’ she said.

  Luca didn’t respond, pulling a packet of jelly babies from his leather rucksack instead. He opened it and offered me one but Jules had her hand straight in the bag, rummaging around, pulling out a fistful and feeding a couple to Boy. Luca looked down at the bag as though it had been contaminated. He held it out to me again. I peered inside, taking a dark one the colour of a bruise, with a love heart moulded on its belly. It tasted of Berries and Pain. Luca made his way through what was left. As soon as he finished one sweet, he popped another in his mouth.

  Jules nestled into the corner of her seat as Boy laid his head against her chest.

  ‘So what’s in Skeggie, then?’ she asked Luca.

  He raised a brow.

  ‘You’ll find out.’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be a tight arse. Just tell us.’

  Luca paused, holding the head of a jelly baby between his teeth. He bit it off.

  ‘It’s got to be spontaneous,’ he said, chewing. ‘Unplanned.’

  Jules cocked her head.

  ‘All right, Posh Boy, I know what spontaneous means. I’m not a fucking idiot.’

  She carried on sitting all offended for a bit. Luca pulled a book from his bag.

  ‘I’m going to read now,’ he said.

  He opened the book, eyes zipping from side to side behind his glasses.

  Jules raised her brows as if to say Look at Mister Lah-di-dah. Then she skimmed the train carriage. She was getting twitchy.

  ‘Right, I’m going for a spontaneous slash,’ she said.

  Luca pretended he hadn’t heard but watched over the top of his glasses as she passed Boy to me and made her way down the aisle. When he caught me looking at him his eyes dropped back to his book.

  ‘She’s all right when you get to know her,’ I said as Boy sat panting on my lap.

  He squinted.

  ‘So are serial killers.’

  I giggled. He raised the book in front of his face. I don’t know how I knew, but I could tell he was grinning.

  After a while, Luca peered over his book as a woman with a snacks trolley came down the aisle. He started shuffling awkwardly in his seat. I leant forward so she wouldn’t see Boy snoozing on my lap, smiling up at her but only briefly so she wouldn’t get suspicious. She walked past and Luca sighed.

  ‘Who is she talking to?’ he said.

  I craned sideways. Jules was chatting with two old women. They were prim-looking, with perfect grey bobs and tailored coats with fancy brooches. I looked back at Luca.

  ‘Just two ladies,’ I said.

  I could hear Jules telling them about the pellet incident that had left her with the broken eye. It was one of her favourite stories. The women were listening politely, but at the same time giving her strong go away signals. Jules is rubbish at reading body language, but it was nice they were too polite to tell her to piss off.

  ‘I think they’re all right,’ I said.

  Luca looked at me all strict.

  ‘You think because they’re old they aren’t dangerous? What do you think happens to criminals? They disintegrate at the age of sixty-five?’

  I looked out of the window. He was getting intense again. I could feel him studying me, the same way he’d looked at me at the party, examining my organs. But this time, I didn’t like it.

  After a while, he leant forward on the table, fingers interlaced.

  ‘The thing is, Molly, I’ve had a lot of things happen to me and I know you probably want to hear all the gruesome details but I don’t really feel like going into it right now. And even if I did—’

  He stopped, suddenly distracted.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’

  I didn’t realize I was smiling until he pointed it out. I’d been looking at the scene outside: clouds skimming through the sky like froth on the top of a milkshake, sun streaming down through the gaps and dancing across the grassy hillsides. It was like something from a gallery.

  ‘You don’t even know what we’re looking for,’ he continued.

  I tried to work out what he wanted me to say, but then remembered I’d stopped playing that game. The more you try to guess what other people want, the more you mess up. It’s better to be honest.

  ‘I don’t mind not knowing,’ I said.

  He flinched a little when I said that, then his face relaxed.

  ‘You’re different from other people, aren’t you?’ he said.

  I grinned.

  ‘Look who’s talking.’

  Luca laughed. It was the first time I’d seen him laugh since the party. We eased back in our chairs, smiling at each other as the hills zoomed past. It was one of those rare moments when everything slows down and you both stop thinking and worrying and wondering about life or what’s going to happen next and just experience it. In that moment, a tiny hand reaches out of your chest and touches the tiny hand reaching out of the other person’s chest and you’re both right there, the fingers of your souls interlinked.

  But then the moment passed.

  Luca’s eyes went over my shoulder and widened. I began to follow his gaze but he shook his head.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Just keep your head down.’

  He lifted his book to cover his face. I tried to look back but he grabbed my hand. I could feel the pulse of his thumb as it pushed into my flesh.

  ‘Don’t!’ he said.

  His eyes froze on something behind me. I kept my neck stiff, staring ahead.

  ‘Run,’ he hissed.

  I grabbed Jule’s bag and the rucksack from between my legs as Luca jumped up. Boy leapt off my lap, yapping as she ran after him. Jules was still talking to the two old ladies but stopped when she heard Boy.

  ‘What the fuck?’ she said as we ran by.

  The train was pulling up at a platform. I turned but couldn’t see the conductor coming up behind us. I couldn’t see who had spooked Luca either, only the ladies.

  I chucked Jules her bag.

  ‘We’ve only been on fifteen minutes!’ she said.

  The doors of the carriage slid open. Luca grabbed me by the waist and lifted me down on to the platform. It was unnecessary; I could have jumped, but I liked being held by him.

  Jules sneered and hopped off, swinging her rucksack on to her back. Boy hovered at the train doors, looking at the platform but edging back into the carriage.

  ‘Who you running from, Posh Boy?’ Jules said.

  There was a trill little beep. I leant forward and grabbed Boy just before the doors shut. She squirmed in my arms, licking my face. When I looked up, the train was already moving away. Whoever Luca had seen was gone.

  ‘Jesus,’ Jules said, looking down at Boy. ‘Can’t get rid of the bugger.’

  But I could tell she didn’t mean it, because she took Boy straight out of my arms.

  It was a short platform, a lone metal bridge connecting one side to the other. There was only one exit so Luca marched towards it.

  Jules groaned so I tugged at her arm. It was only when we got to the white picket fence at the exit that Luca stopped, staring up at the platform sign. He dropped his rucksack and threw his trumpet case on the ground. It clattered against the concrete, echoing around the platform.

  ‘You’re frickin’ kidding me!’ he cried.

  I looked at the sign. In large blue capitals it said ‘BINGHAM’.

  The Dainty Land of Bingham

  When I was eight, my parents took me to see my grandmother. She li
ved in a small town in the middle of nowhere. By the car park near to her house was a miniature village with model shops, a model primary school, a model fire station and a cellophane lake. My parents stood by the lake arguing; my grandmother was dying and neither of them had wanted to make the trip. As they argued I could see their faces getting knotted up in that ugly way. Not fairy-tale ugly (my parents were well-groomed, good-looking people) but ugly in the way that makes you sick because of the nastiness behind it.

  So instead of looking at them, I focused on the village. I studied the little bricks on the buildings and the cobbles on the roads. I examined the expressions painted on the figures as they waved to each other. I watched the little steam train chug around on the miniature railway, the train driver holding out his hat as he rode past. Then I took a nearly finished Rubberband Girl from my pocket, knitted her hair into two plaits and placed her by the Town Hall. This was her home.

  Stepping into Bingham was like stepping into that model village. There was a cobbled square and black metal bollards with gold detail, spindly trees lining the streets and rows of dainty shops with hand-painted signs. There was bunting strung across the Post Office window and what looked like a fancy cookware shop. All it needed was a train chugging by, the driver waving his hat through the window.

  Luca stood by a monument in the middle of the square. It was octagonal with stone pillars that rose into arches and then into a spire. It was a pretty thing but entirely useless. There were no benches inside for people to sit on and the arches were too low and narrow to work as a bandstand. Still, there was something nice about it. Like maybe it had been special to someone once.

  Boy sniffed the ground, tail wagging as pedestrians shuffled past. There was the smell of just-baked food – sweet breads, meat pies and pasties – which made my stomach rumble.

  Jules pulled a packet of Quavers from her cargo pants. The pockets were great for storing things as well as for shoplifting. Jules can be carrying half the contents of a corner shop before anyone notices the items are missing.

  ‘Is this a village?’ she asked, pushing a potato curl in her mouth. You could hear the crunch echo; the place was that quiet.