Bailiff read out a notice nobody could hear. Before he was finished the cops and guards began tearing down the shelters and wickiups, crushing belongings. Swiping at the dogs who lunged at them with snapping jaws. Forcing dogs into the cage. The helicopter above, recording everything. A noose flashed silver as a figure with a catchpole lunged at Red.
Nina jumped on the back of one of the police. She yanked his visor up and tipped something in the cop’s face. The cop ran into a tree, trying to smash the girl against it. Nina held fast. Her mouth was open and I knew she was yelling all the time. The cop threw her onto the ground where she bucked and struggled as he twisted her arms round and tied her wrists with plastic handcuffs.
Dogcatcher caught Red in the stainless steel noose and pulled it tight, lifting her off the ground and into the air, twisting and kicking.
I charged at the dogcatcher and was smashed to the ground. Tasted dirt. Rolled over. Stars in the sky. High above me the light of the helicopter, the rotor blades ka-chunk ka-chunk ka-chunking in my head. I couldn’t hear anything else.
Danny came silently running. Crouched down. From the ground he looked like a small giant, carrying the night sky on his back. My mouth wouldn’t work. Tasted blood.
Paul!
Jason’s voice cut through the machine noise that had taken over my head.
Paul!
Got to my knees. Grabbed Danny. Held him. Pulled him back into the trees.
Jason charged in his cardboard armour. Took the dogcatcher off at the knees. Sat on top of him and started punching him in the face.
Bloke still had hold of the catchpole. Red still in the noose, but on the ground.
Found my voice.
Jason! The dogs!
Kept punching until the bloke was still.
Jason ripped the catchpole from his hand and found the mechanism that opened the noose.
Red stood. Shaky, uncertain. Walked in a half circle. Jason threw the pole into the trees. Released the other dogs from the cage and led them into the trees. Nina, still handcuffed, had disappeared.
Red! Red! I called.
Red! Danny shouted.
Red, wobbly, turning this way and that, finally came to me. Mouth open and panting hard. Scared. Her heart thumped against my hand.
It’s all right sweetheart, I said.
Terry, Danny said.
Adam had been fighting all the time so we could escape.
Now the giant youth was on his knees. To me he seemed to be rising out of the ground, not being beaten down to it by the guards and cops. They pinned his arms to his sides and forced his hands behind his back and handcuffed him. The bastards knocked him over. Then hauled him back to his feet. Adam didn’t make a sound. Kept his head up and still, looking to where we were hiding in the darkness. Moving fast, Adam stuck out his elbows and spun in place, knocking a cop over.
Down on one knee, the cop drew a long baton.
Hold that fucker still, he said, and raised his stick.
Nothing I could do to help that wouldn’t get me and Danny taken down with him.
Adam’s screams followed me through the forest.
Red growled softly then gave a tiny warning yip.
Just enough for me to open my eyes. Still getting used to John’s boat in the dark. The night was moon-soaked, and I woke to luminous shifting pools and splashes, where the silver-blue light penetrated the boat.
Soft knocking.
Not the cops. Cops had no idea of who I was. And they’d kick the door in. Not Adam. Stella had tried to find out where he’d been taken and got nowhere. Hard to make him disappear, Stella said, but I knew better. I saw Adam handcuffed and alone in the vast over-lit walkways of an unlisted secure unit. Everything that was his taken away. Boots for paper slippers. Bright green make-up roughly wiped away. The green bands taken from his hair. Even the braids that had been made with love were removed. Not before he was photographed, because his decorations made Adam look mad to the cops and doctors, and justified everything they did to him.
Adam wouldn’t had given his real name but they’d find out who he was soon enough. Somebody will see the burns on his chest and look him up. Somewhere there’ll be a file on him thick as a bible.
Adam as much as told me that he’d escaped from wherever he was before. They wouldn’t let him go this time. Adam was back where he belonged. Warehoused.
The graffiti had appeared overnight: Free Adam, The Giant Rules, OK.
Another soft knock. Red sat up. Moved her head to one side like a dog in a cartoon. Should have been trying to get through the door to see who was on the other side. Anxious. Didn’t like loud noises or being alone. Scared of figures coming out of the dark.
Another knock on the side of the boat. Harder. Red barked once, sharply. I reached down for John’s lump hammer that I kept by the side of the narrow cot which was too small for me and Red but she slept in it anyway.
Terry!
A young voice.
Who is it?
Goldie.
Goldie?
The girl was wide-eyed and silver-edged in the moonlight.
Grown since the winter. Up to my shoulder. She was all angles, her body still catching up with her height. Trackies and a hooded sweatshirt with a bumblebee on it: Bee Nice. Gold-blonde hair stuffed into the hood. Feet jammed into unlaced boots.
My dad’s like, stay here, she said, but it’s Danny, I can hear them shouting.
Locked Red in and went with the girl. Goldie reached for my hand, the warm contact electric. Goldie looked at me, pushing a blonde curl back under her hood.
There were angry voices coming from Stella’s boat. Goldie looked scared.
It’ll be all right, I said. Go back.
McNab and his hard-faced offsider, whose name I could not remember, were standing over Stella.
Black shadows made the bulkheads darkly fluid.
A dog-boy with Danny’s blonde head and Choo-Choo’s long furry legs was partly visible through the crowd. Crammed into a corner.
Get out of here, I said.
Are you a man of influence now Terry? McNab said.
The big man looking bigger in the small space. Stella held herself tight, her hands and arms invisible inside a cardigan that looked wrapped around her twice. Could feel vibrations coming from her as McNab threw his weight around. Mental force pushing back. The men had been drinking. Alcohol bloomed in the too-small space, and I was back in all the old places. Men and drink racing each other to the prize of violence.
You need to leave, I said. Any harm comes to these people you won’t get off this island.
McNab pointed a big finger at me.
I can fucking assure you, he said, that if you touch so much as a hair on our heads during these negotiations, every craft on this stretch of river will be a smoking ruin in the morning.
Don’t swear in front of my son, Stella said.
McNab held up his hands.
Lo siento, señora, he said.
Closed his hands except for the finger he’d used to point at me.
But I speak the truth Terry, he said. Before the sun finds his hat.
What do you want McNab?
A word with the boy’s father, he said.
Not got one, Danny said.
Danny, Stella said.
The boy’s a volunteer Terry, McNab said. A young bandito. We caught him red-handed, smashing up a new consignment of pipes, the delivery note was still warm.
Did you do this? Stella said.
I never! Danny said, he’s lying!
Choo-Choo barked.
What we’d like to know from young Danny, McNab said, is the identity of the boy with him. Who got away. The red-headed lad in the baseball cap.
Danny gave a small smile and held the dog tighter.
Told you, he said, I was on my own.
You think this is funny son? McNab said. I know you’re lying to me.
Fuck off baldy! Danny said, arms folded.
Danny! Stella
said.
Let me tell you a wee thing, McNab roared. You’re lucky we’re not at home, else your ma would be looking for your kneecaps. Keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll pull your arms off.
That’s enough, I said.
I’m trying to keep the lad from durance vile, McNab said. I should really hand him over to the cops.
You wouldn’t be here if you were going to get the cops involved, I said. Tell us what you want.
The hatchet-faced man leaned into the foreman and said something, his thin mouth barely moving. Leaned the other way so he was back where he was. Examined the end of his roll-up. Put it back in his mouth.
This boy’s cost me money Terry, McNab said. Money I can’t afford to lose.
McNab spread his hands.
The pair of us have been called out of our beds to find a solution, he said.
You’ll find no money here, Stella said. I want you off my boat. Now.
I’ll be your painter, I said.
McNab looked at me and smiled.
I’ve no painting jobs, he said.
You will have, in a few weeks.
Terry, would it surprise you to know I’ve thought of that already? I’ve the lads on notice.
I’ll do it for less.
You’ll do it for nothing, he said.
No McNab, I said, I won’t do it for nothing. I’ll do it for less.
And young Che here will stay out of my business?
Yes he will, Stella said.
I need to hear him say it.
Danny glared at his mother. Stella broke his stare and the boy looked down.
All right, he said.
All right what? McNab said. There’s nothing all right about it. I’ll not have the lads go short Terry.
It’ll have to do, Stella said.
McNab looked at me.
You heard her, I said.
And the accomplice Terry, what am I to do about him?
The boy was on his own, I said.
Are you calling me a liar?
We’ll take care of it, Stella said.
I have your word?
For God’s sake McNab, I said.
Danny watching. Just his head moving. Paint on his hands.
McNab looked at the hatchet-faced man, who looked at me hard. Eventually he nodded.
Grand, McNab said, that’s settled. Have you any drink in the house, to seal the bargain?
There’s no drink, Stella said.
What about you Terry? McNab said. You were known to keep a bottle about your person.
The bar’s closed, I said. Time you were going,
The hatchet-faced man looked at Danny as he was leaving.
Pointed an imaginary gun at him.
Danny looked at him with wide eyes.
Don’t come back, I said.
The man put his fingers away, and he and McNab left.
Stella stood with the flat of her left hand raised, her mouth set hard in the way that was now familiar. Looking down. Stella’s body tried to march, but the boat wasn’t big enough. She ended up pacing in a tight circle, taking a couple of quick, shortened steps, then turning and coming back.
Was this her idea? she said at last.
Who? Danny said.
Stella raised her head and made a grunting sound like a bitten-off scream. She twisted her body so that she was leaning over her son.
Was it her idea? she said.
No! Danny shouted.
I don’t believe you, Stella said.
Mum!
You keep away from her, Stella said.
Mum!
Do you hear me?
I’m just trying to help! Danny shouted, Jee-sus.
This is not the way, I said.
You got a better idea? Danny said. You want me to let them do to me what they did to Adam?
I looked at him. Blonde hair dark with sweat at the ends. Bottom lip stuck out. Super angry but scared too. Looking at me like I’d turned traitor.
I don’t have any answers, I said, but McNab’s not the problem.
Fucking talking, the boy said, fucking arguing. Mike was right. Nobody listens, nothing changes. Nobody listened to you when Dad beat you up, and nobody’s listening to you now.
Danny, I said.
You want somebody to pay attention, the boy said, you got to smash their shit up.
Where are you going? Stella said.
Nowhere!
Choo-Choo stood up at the word.
You stay away from her! Stella said, as the boy and the dog left the barge.
Danny! she shouted, do you hear me?
That’s not my name! the boy yelled from outside the boat. Stella looked up at the bulkhead, took in a deep breath. Held it. Let it out finally. Looked at me.
The little bitch, she said. I felt sorry for her. What’s she playing at? He gets arrested, for anything, he’ll be taken away from me.
You don’t know that.
Yes Terry, she said. I do. You don’t know what you’re talking about.
The famous gallerist said he hadn’t been so excited by an untrained, self-taught artist for years. ‘It’s like Godden came straight from a life of addiction and sleeping rough with these wonderful paintings,’ Crow said. ‘Raw, unschooled. I don’t understand why he’d go after his benefactor with an axe. I suppose Terry couldn’t leave behind where he’d come from. People from disadvantaged backgrounds often can’t. It’s really a great shame, but I was in fear of my life.’
Found a newspaper account of my confrontation with Evelyn Crow inside a folder of drawings.
The headline – Hate Gallery!
Sat reading it on the small sun-washed deck. The gentle rise and fall. Muted hollow wood sounds.
Raw. Unschooled. Code words for no technique. Don’t know what you’re doing. Honest, that was another favourite. Searingly honest.
But. Who else was interested?
Sir Evelyn declined to comment specifically on the dispute, which Godden claims has left the gallerist in possession of his major work.
‘I want to see what Terry is working on now,’ Sir Evelyn said. ‘I’ve almost forgotten about our incident. It’s really not significant. It’s become a kind of urban myth. Though we mustn’t forget that potentially Terry remains very dangerous.’
Red appeared from out of the forest. Panting. Burrs stuck in her fur.
When she saw me she lifted her chin and made the soft questioning noise that sometimes made me believe she was going to start talking.
Have you read this shit? I said to her.
Red barged through the small space between my arms and legs, stepping on me, her hot flank rubbing across my face and leaving fur in my mouth. Went to her bowl and drank noisily, dripping water. She flumped down on the deck. Heavy exhaled breath.
Make yourself comfortable chum, I said, picking hair out of my mouth.
Red raised her head and sneezed, making her ears flap.
You OK? I said.
Red licked my hand.
Sun on my face, the rest of me in shade.
Turned the old Nokia on and lifted it towards the sky. In the warm air the skin on my hand and arm was sun dark.
Evelyn Crow Evelyn Crow Evelyn Crow.
Could hear John Rose talking as he poured whisky in his coffee: Grease the wheels.
Pressed call. Instant pick-up. A woman gave a name I couldn’t hear. I could picture the clean walls of the gallery. The light from the high windows falling just so on the canvasses. Through those hushed rooms, an ordinary speaking voice would travel. If you were to shout, as I knew, it would sound like a series of explosions.
Evelyn Crow please.
Sir Evelyn is not . . .
Tell him it’s Terry, I said. I’ll wait.
I could hear noise from the site. Skill saws and angle grinders. Raised voices. Radios.
Terry, Evelyn Crow said, is that you?
I’ve got something for you, I said. Something you need to see. There’s money in it. I’m not foo
ling around.
Well well, Crow said.
Hungry when I finished the call. There was a box of broken biscuits somewhere.
Sweet biscuit on my tongue. Stroking the dog. Really feeling the shape of her head under my hand.
Red licked my fingers. Carried on after she’d got all the crumbs.
I ate another golden biscuit.
Red followed my hand.
Then I called Nancy Rose.
We talked for a long time.
Nancy listened, and asked questions, and then she talked and I listened. I got her to repeat certain instructions.
Everything depends on Crow, I said.
Do you think he’ll go for it? Nancy said.
The bug Red had blown out of her nose and onto the deck stood up and shakily walked away on the wet deck that must have seemed like a flooded new world.
I honestly don’t know, I said. What about Adam?
I’ll see what I can do, Nancy said, but don’t get your hopes up.
Not likely, I said.
The night before Evelyn Crow came to the island, spots of what I thought were blood appeared on my bedclothes. More all over the boat. If I had been drinking I’d suspect myself. Found Red licking at herself and scratching at the door, mewling and barking to get out, and realized she was in season.
You seem concerned Terry, Crow shouted into the wind we made.
I didn’t answer.
Had to lock her up. What state would the boat be in when I finally got back? Not just the spotting. Red had been fighting mad when I left, and I’d be gone for hours. Could she dig through wood planks?
Crow was summer-burned. A deep tan. Different man. Grown his hair out. Pushed back on his head in frozen white waves that did not move even in the speeding Zodiac. Fig and mint no longer. Some harsher citrus scent. There was a thin line of familiar snowy skin at his hairline, so that Crow’s tan face looked like a rejuvenating mask. Pale blue shirt with an extra button undone. Khaki jacket. Khaki trousers tucked into brand new jungle boots.
Massive, almost square dark glasses. Gold watch. A Canon 5D Mark 11 camera on a strap over his shoulder.
Danny, in John’s hat and a baggy sweatshirt, was staring at the young woman he was sat next to on the transom.
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