Black Sheep (10 page)

Mum grinned at her and kissed the air next to her cheek. “Gorgeous perfume, Effie,” she remarked as she looked her up and down. I could see that she approved of Effie’s cutting
edge military-style jacket, skinny jeans and embroidered ballet pumps. Just the right mix of trendy and classy.

Auntie Dionne had met Effie before and was eager to introduce her to Uncle Sam.

“Effie’s father is a professor of African Studies at SOAS,” she said, holding Effie by the arm. “And her mother works as a consultant to the Runnymede Trust, isn’t
that right?”

“Yes,” replied Effie, “she gained her doctorate last year, so now they are Dr and
Dr
Mensah – very confusing!”

They all laughed and Uncle Sam nodded his head approvingly. “So, you attend the same school as Misha – that fancy school in Dulwich?”

“Yes, I’ve been there since Year Eight.”

“I hear it’s a fantastic school,” enthused Uncle Sam. “Nothing but the best for you girls, eh?”

“Well,” said Auntie Loretta archly, “with the money my sister pays in school fees, it had better be nothing but the best!”

“Oh, Loretta,” sighed Auntie Dionne, “not everything is about money, you know.”

I flinched for my favourite aunt. She was so different to Mum and Auntie Dionne. For a start, she had never married and she still lived in Brixton, near my grandma. But there were other
differences too, ones I couldn’t easily put my finger on.

Was it that Auntie Loretta was more down-to-earth than her sisters, more connected to her roots? I wasn’t sure – all I knew was I was banking on her support that afternoon. I knew
that she would warm to Dwayne and, to be honest, listening to the conversation about expensive schools and doctorates, I realised that Dwayne was going to need all the friends he could get.

“He’s a bit late, isn’t he?” murmured Auntie Dionne.

“Not a good start, eh?” chuckled Uncle Sam. My dislike for him grew just a little more.

The conversation turned to the new television show Auntie Dionne was hosting on Sky One. I was proud of my aunt, of course, but my stomach was tying itself in knots and I just couldn’t
relax.

At last the doorbell rang and I leapt out of my chair. Everyone turned to look at me and I felt my face grow hot. Talk about pressure.

“Shall I come with you?” Effie asked, getting up.

“No, no,” I waved, “I’ll be fine.”

I peeped through the spy hole. It was Dwayne. He looked so good that I felt my insides ache. In that moment, I wanted to just take him by the hand and run away with him down the street, away
from Mum and Auntie Dionne and Uncle Sam. We were all right when it was just the two of us. But here? My feelings of optimism had trickled away to nothing.

I just didn’t believe Dwayne would survive the Reynolds Inquisition.

Dwayne, on the other hand, was super-chilled. He smiled at me when I opened the door and leaned in to kiss me. On my doorstep, with my mum right inside? He had to be joking! I turned my head to
the side and gave him a brief hug.

“Why you trippin’, girl?” He was too mellow, too laid-back. It made me even more nervous.

“You’re late, Dee,” I hissed, closing the door behind him. “Everyone’s been waiting for you...”

Dwayne took his cap off and rubbed his new haircut. “Boy...” he breathed. “I must be crazy...”

Then Mum appeared in the doorway, a bright smile on her face.

“You must be Dwayne!” she beamed, reaching out to shake Dwayne’s hand. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Hi, Mrs Reynolds,” Dwayne mumbled, ducking his head. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Come in, Dwayne, come and meet my sisters...”

I watched as Mum led Dwayne into the living room. All of sudden, he looked so out of place. I could see that he had made an effort: he wore his newest kicks, designer jeans and a leather jacket.
But I saw Mum take in the tight fade, gold rings and diamond earrings and I knew just what she was thinking: typical ghetto style.

By the time I plucked up the courage to go out into the garden, the Inquisition was well underway.

“So, Dwayne,” Auntie Dionne was saying, as if she was setting up a television interview for her morning show, “where did you say you lived?”

“Saints Town Estate, up in Brixton.”

“Oh, that’s right near Mum’s house, isn’t it?” said Auntie Loretta, her face lighting up. “My shop’s not far from there.”

That’s right, Auntie Loretta
, I thought,
I knew you’d be in our corner!

But Auntie Dionne wrinkled up her nose and said, “Brixton? I see... and who do you live with?”

“My mum and my kid brother.”

Uncle Sam joined the interrogation: “No dad around, huh?”

“Nah,” replied Dwayne, totally unaware of the trap he was walking into, “my dad ain’t around. I don’t really know him, to tell you the truth.”

Uncle Sam sniffed and murmured, “So far, so typical,” before lifting a forkful of M&S rocket salad with cherry tomatoes and balsamic vinegar to his mouth. When he had finished
chewing, he said, “Did you know that 60% of Caribbean children are raised in single-parent households? Shocking, isn’t it?”

“And then you have wonderful, stable couples like you and my sister who decide not to have children at all,” Auntie Loretta said brightly. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

Uncle Sam almost choked on his salad and Auntie Dionne shot her sister a look. I was glad. Someone needed to put that man in his place!

Mum came out from the kitchen with some grilled salmon and a couscous salad and sat down at the table. “So, Dwayne,” she said brightly, obviously unaware that the questioning had
started without her, “I hear you go to a comprehensive school, is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right, I go Saints Hill, just down the road from my estate.”

I saw the look on Mum’s face and felt the will to live slowly draining out of me.

Saints Hill was a notorious school, well known for failed OFSTED inspections, a revolving door of teachers and a serious drug problem, from Year 7 up. As a civil servant in local government, Mum
knew all the gory details. And to make things worse, Saints Hill Primary School was
my
old school, the very school Mum had worked so hard to get me away from.

I had to try and salvage the conversation: “But he’s really good at Maths, aren’t you, Dwayne?”

Dwayne nodded, frowning slightly. “I get by, innit...”

Mum tried to recover from the shock and smiled a big fake smile. But her next question was the nail in the coffin: “So, which college are you looking at for ‘A’
Level?”

“Umm, not sure about ‘A’ Levels, y’know. Might have to retake some exams. School’s never been my strong point, y’get me. Not sure if I’m up to
‘A’ Levels, still...”

Mum sucked in her breath and said nothing more. Auntie Dionne raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Uncle Sam. Auntie Loretta looked over at me feelingly. Effie just concentrated on the pile of
rocket leaves in front of her.

The conversation moved on to other things and Dwayne found himself ignored by everyone but me and Auntie Loretta, who asked him about his family and someone called Ms Walker, the headteacher at
his school.

“We went to school together – she’s one of my best customers. A fantastic woman, really caring.”

Effie tried to lighten the mood but I wasn’t up to humouring her.

I squeezed Dwayne’s knee under the table and tried to smile encouragingly at him but he didn’t respond, preferring to concentrate on his barbecue chicken.

Not long after we had eaten, Dwayne excused himself, saying that he had some errands to run for his mum.

I saw Mum and Auntie Dionne exchange a look before Mum smiled up at him and trilled, “Lovely to meet you, Dwayne. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks, Mrs Reynolds,” he replied, looking around at everyone. “It was nice to meet you all too.” But his voice was flat and his eyes had a hard, closed look. He
practically pushed past me in an effort to get out of the door.

“Dwayne?” I began, unsure of his mood. “Speak later..?”

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugged and, with that, he was gone. No hug, no kiss, no backward glance.

I shivered as I watched him walk away from me. And as I turned to go back inside, it occurred to me that this could possibly be the last time I would ever see him.

DWAYNE

I ain’t gonna lie: I was bubbling when I left Misha’s house. I was so vex’, my head hurt from having to hold it down for so long. Of course I wasn’t
about to lose it in front of Misha’s family, but damn! They sure knew how to make man feel small.

‘
What was you expecting, blud?’

‘
Some respect, man, at least. Man comes into your house, the least you can do is give him a chance, y’get me. It was like they had already made up their minds about me from time.
Like I care what they think!’

‘They weren’t feeling you, blud, that’s for sure...’

‘But why, though? Because I live on an estate and don’t go to a posh school and speak all proper, like them? That’s just shallow, man. I don’t know what the hell
Misha was thinking. She should have known what her people were like...’

That was when my phone rang. It was Misha. I bit my lip. I really didn’t want to speak to her too tough – but I knew how she felt about me not picking up her calls. I took a deep
breath and counted to ten. I didn’t want her to know just how vex’ I was. When the phone rang off, I rang her right back.

“Hey, babe,” her voice was all soft on the other end of the line. “You all right?”

“Yeah, Misha, I’m fine...” I wanted to let her know how I was feeling, not keep it all inside – but I couldn’t find the words. “About today,
Misha...”

“Yeah, Dee, about today...”

“I’m sorry, man, but...”

“I’m sorry too, it was awful...”

“What your mum and them did was wrong, putting mans on the spot like that. I could tell they didn’t like me the moment they saw me. Like they’d judged me already. I don’t
like that kind of thing, man, it’s not right. You have to give people a chance, y’get me?”

“I know, Dwayne, I know.”

But I was in full flow now. “They don’t know nothin’ about me, nothin’ about my life, but they wanna come judge me. Screw them, man! I don’t need that crap,
y’get me!”

Then Misha was quiet and I wondered whether I had been too blunt. I knew that Misha wasn’t used to people telling it straight. In her world, that was considered rude. But that was me,
innit: a rudeboy, through and through. And that wasn’t going to change, no matter how many times Auntie Dionne looked down her nose at me.

“Dwayne.” Misha’s voice was all small and I could hear that she was trying to choose her words really carefully. “It’ll better next time, OK? They just need a
chance to get to know you, that’s all. It’s a new experience for them too. Maybe if you could just...”

But I didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t want to hear her making excuses for them. “Look, I need to clear my head, OK? It’s best we don’t talk now.”

“Yeah, you’re right...”

“Catch you later, yeah?” And I hung up.

Free that.

I got into the Tube wound up like a spring. It was Saturday night and the train was full of people on their way to the West End, ready to party. Some of them had already been to the pub and were
making bare noise in the carriage. It hurt my head. I pulled my hoodie over my head and sank down lower in my seat.

Right across from me, this tall white guy with a stubbly chin was staring at me, his eyes red, his lips all wet and slack. Nastiness. I scowled at him and turned away, expecting him to do the
same. But he kept looking at me, this little glint in his eye saying, ‘What you gonna do about it, sonny?’

“Do you know me, blud?” I barked, loud enough for the other passengers to hear me and stop their chatting.

But the fool just kept eyeing me up as if he hadn’t heard a word I said. I could feel the anger pulsing behind my eyes, all the stress of the past week building up like a volcano inside
me. This guy was messing with the wrong one tonight.

“Are you deaf or something? What you staring at me for?”

“Take it easy, man,” said the guy who was sitting next to me. “Can’t you see he’s drunk?” And he put his hand on me.

What
?

“Don’t touch me, blud!” I roared, turning to grab him by the collar. I pushed him up against the train window and held him there. His girl was crying, hanging on to my arm.

“Please,” she was screaming, “he didn’t even do anything to you!”

“Shut up, man!” I shrugged her off and she fell to the floor as the train lurched through the tunnel.

The sound of the train and the pounding in my ears was deafening. I felt the man’s Adam’s apple bobbing against my fists and I felt choked by the need to beat him down, to hear his
nose crack, to feel his blood, hot and slippery, on my knuckles. I just had to get this anger out somehow. I drew my fist back and got ready to rearrange this feisty boy’s face.

But I couldn’t move my arm. All of a sudden, someone with a vice-like grip had grabbed hold of it and twisted it behind my back. I was too surprised to struggle.

“Stop, Mr Kingston,” a familiar woman’s voice rasped in my ear. “Stop before you do something you will regret.”

I’d know that voice anywhere. It was Ms Walker.

The next thing I knew, we were at the station and the doors were sliding open and Ms Walker was pushing me out through the doors, still holding me in a man-sized bear hug.

‘Mind the gap.’

The other passengers hurried to get away from us and, in a few moments, we were alone on the platform.

Only then did Ms Walker let me go.

I spun away from her, breathing hard. “What d’you do that for?” I shouted. “Are you crazy or something?”

“Dwayne Kingston, I was trying to save your backside from a night in a jail cell! What do you think would have happened if you had assaulted that boy and the police had turned up? Who do
you think they would have taken away? Huh?”

I struggled to get my breath back. I knew she was right. If the police had turned up, I would have been screwed, for real. My pride was wounded, still. I’d been taken down by the
headteacher, man, in front of a whole carriage-load of strangers!