Authors: Bob Summer
‘Nah. She’ll understand. She’ll soon see how you and I are made for each other. How we both want the same things. We’re not so different.’
‘Don’t you reckon?’
‘Of course not. We’re just fighting from a different angle, that’s all. But we’re on the same side, for definite.’ He kissed my forehead. I lifted my face and his fingers brushed my cheek, crept around the back of my neck, lifted my hair and sent mucky sensations to my toes. He looked at my lips and it felt like the sun crept under my skin, warming me up from the inside out. Then the fireworks went off. ‘Bloody hell.’ He leapt away from me. ‘What was that?’
‘Probably nothing.’
‘You think?’ Stuart snapped. He picked Stacey up off the mat. ‘It’s okay.’ He grasped Gemma’s hand. ‘There’s no need to panic.’
He looked pretty panic-struck to me. What with all that fast breathing and glancing about. ‘I know.’ I said. ‘And I’m not.’
‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘No! We have to wait for Joe.’ I’d already caused him enough grief. ‘And we’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Chelsea.’
Stuart handed me Stacey and knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Hey, Chelsea. Are you all right in there? We need to leave. Now.’
‘Stuart. I really think we should wait for Joe to get back.’
He knocked harder. ‘Chelsea.’
When Chelsea opened the door Gemma reacted first. ‘Don’t cry. We’re going home. Stuart’s here.’
Chelsea sniffed and shook her head. ‘I’ve got soap in my eyes.’
Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked at me and I felt her sadness deep in my throat. I swallowed. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘Everything will…’
‘My parents are dead. And I’ll tell you why my uncle signed me over. Because I asked him to. I thought I was going to a place where there’d be loads of other kids, and parties, and it was all going to be a laugh and stuff.’
I looked to Stuart. We should never have talked about her like that, Crawlsfeld and his special times and, oh God, her being sold. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
She tried to smile at Gemma. ‘Silly me, eh?’
‘Listen, Chelsea,’ I said. ‘Joe can fix anything, honest. He’ll talk to your uncle and sort all this mess out.’
She snorted. ‘I can’t go back there.’
‘Of course you can. Once your uncle finds out …’
‘He can’t find out. Nobody can. They’ll never let me forget it.’
The ‘they’ must be the girls in the park. I looked to Stuart for help.
He stood to one side, watching. ‘Crawlsfeld will be punished, Chelsea,’ he said. ‘I promise.’ He looked so genuine I believed him myself. He cleared his throat and stepped towards her. ‘Are you okay to make a run for it? It’s just that we really should be getting out of here.’
‘Sure.’ Her voice cracked and she bent over to fiddle with her shoe. She put her hand up to her face, let her hair fall forward, and did everything she could to hide her misery. But it filled the room, stunning even Gemma into silence.
Stuart broke the moment first. ‘Listen, Chelsea. I’m so sorry. For everything. I can’t begin to understand what you must have gone through.’
I willed him to stop the sympathetic floundering. Everybody couldn’t help but cry when they were given sympathy. Chelsea stood up and looked out the window while Stuart gazed around the floor with his hands in his pockets. She caught my eye. I wanted to tell her that I got it, and I’d do all I could to put it right, I knew people, Joe, M Gee, and together we’d sort it. I wanted to be firm and strong and let her know we were all on her side and to hell with her uncle - she had us. But I turned away and said nothing. Crap.
Matron burst in and popped the discomfort bubble. She headed straight for Stacey and scooped her up. ‘Come quick. We need to leave - now.’ Stuart snatched Gemma’s hand and reached for mine but I grasped Chelsea’s. She, more than anybody, needed somebody to show they cared.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ She nodded and sucked on her lips to stop more tears. ‘You will be okay,’ I said. ‘I promise.’
Matron led the way along the corridor to the stairs. ‘Joe is at the bottom,’ she said. For an old fat woman she moved pretty fast.
I wish she’d warned us. The shock of finding Joe sitting propped against the wall knocked the air out of me. I dropped to my knees. ‘Jesus, Joe. What happened?’ His hand gripped his side and his face twisted in pain.
Matron took Gemma’s hand and told Stuart to help me. ‘We need to get him out to the truck.’
I saw and felt my hands grabbing Joe’s arm but it was like I’d been drinking. My arms moved independently. I had no control over what they were doing or what they’d do next.
Chelsea stood trembling and crying. ‘Oh please no. Oh please no.’
‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘If you’re not going to help just go with Matron.’ My new caring touchy feely side needed to be nurtured to maturity at a less stressful time.
Stuart knelt the other side of Joe and we met each other’s eyes. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We can do this. We’re going to get out of here and we’re going to be together.’
Right then, with Joe’s blood on my hands and people running around outside the door wanting to kill us, I decided we’d, not only get out, but we would get that posh hotel and we would, indeed, be the exception. I almost snarled at him. ‘We bloody well will and all.’
Between us we managed to get Joe to his feet. I never knew the human body could lose so much blood and still live. It spread everywhere. My jeans stuck to my knees and my feet skidded on the tiles as I struggled to take Joe’s weight.
‘Sorry about this,’ he whispered.
‘Lean this way,’ said Stuart then looked at me. ‘You okay?’
By Christ he weighed the same as a small mountain. ‘Yep. Let’s go.’
Matron raced ahead across the gravel towards a truck. But we couldn’t keep up. There were more mini explosions from the other side of the grounds. When I heard gunshots I put my head down and put all my strength into getting the hell out of there. Joe’s feet lost their way and we dragged him through the gravel, his knees and toes bouncing behind us.
Matron left Stacey with Gemma in the back of the truck and climbed in the cab. She revved the engine and it screamed as she slammed the truck into reverse and came straight towards us. She stopped, thank God, and got out to help us heave Joe into the back.
Gemma sobbed and called out for Stuart. Stacey screamed such a high piercing yell of terror it went right through my brain and out the other side. ‘Can’t you do something with that screeching kid?’ I yelled.
I would not be taking her home with me, best friend’s baby or not.
‘It’s okay, Gem, stay there,’ said Stuart. He touched my shoulder. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Where the freaking hell are you going?’
‘Chelsea!’ He ran back towards the manor.
The very last ounce of sympathy I might have mustered vanished. There was nothing wrong with her legs. She should have been right behind us. Stuart was a much, much better person than me. All I wanted to do was run like the gallops.
But then I spotted Crawlsfeld - with a gun, a big gun, and he had his arm around Chelsea’s neck, trying to drag her back inside.
Joe groaned, Gemma and Stacey screamed, and Matron yelled, ‘Get in, we need to go!’
‘One minute!’ I yelled back. ‘Wait, one minute!’ I ran to help Stuart, my every thought stood out clear and vivid, like in loud, red, ballooned letters in my head. Well weird.
Crawlsfeld pointed the gun at Stuart. I shouted to Chelsea, ‘Drop!’ She didn’t take any notice but squirmed and fought like she’d gone wild. Crawlsfeld glanced at me. Stuart grabbed his chance and dived to rugby tackle his legs. When the gun fired my ears jangled and everything else went silent. The shot hit the gravel and sent stones flying into my legs. I danced way too late to avoid them and shit they hurt, like getting pebble-dashed with nails.
When I looked again, Stuart held the gun.
Crawlsfeld laughed. ‘Don’t be an idiot.’ He let go of Chelsea’s neck and dragged her back towards the Manor by her arm. She stopped crying and dug her heels in.
I ran harder and dived into the tangle of arms and legs. I tried to help prise Crawlsfeld’s fingers off Chelsea’s elbow and kicked out at his plums, screaming into his face the whole while. ‘Let go of her you miserable, dirty, paedo, stinking …’ In short - I lost it. Stuart lifted the gun by the wrong end, the deadly end, and crashed the fattest part sideways into Crawlsfeld’s head, just above his left ear. As creepy Crawley hit the deck, deader than a sausage, Stuart dropped the gun as if it had exploded. I wiped some splattered drops of blood off my face and, like a total loontune, Chelsea laughed.
I swear the world stopped. The guns, the kids screaming, Chelsea laughing, all of it. The only sound was a thrump, thrump, thrump in my ears. I sat in the gravel leaning back on my hands, grit digging into my palms. I scuttled backwards away from Crawlsfeld and his staring eye. His left hand twitched and a foot jerked, just the once, and I saw his white ankle above a blue nylon sock. The thrump slowed and faded away. And so did the hate in Crawlsfeld’s eye.
Something flicked a switch and the world fired back up. Matron reversed the truck towards us. ‘One last chance you guys. I’m getting the hell out of here - right now.’
Stuart pulled me up off the ground. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ My legs wouldn’t work and I couldn’t drag my eyes off the bloody crack in Crawlsfeld’s head. Stuart leant and yelled into my ear. ‘Atty, come ON!’
In the truck, I sat with Joe’s head in my lap. His eyes flickered and he made scratchy noises in his throat as if he was about to choke. He had to be okay. I refused to think he wouldn’t be. I needed him. If he died it would be my fault. He told me to lie low. He told me he would sort it. If I’d only done as I was freaking well told. My voice shook. It sounded like somebody else speaking from somewhere above or behind me. ‘Joe?’ the voice said. ‘Everything is going to get sorted.’ I looked at Stuart. He sat with Stacey and Gemma, cuddling them, muttering nonsense, trying to stop them from crying. I wanted him to look at me and tell me I was right, but he didn’t. He stared out at the trees flashing by and ignored me. Chelsea sat silent, looking at her hands on her knees as she knelt in the corner by herself.
We only travelled for a couple of minutes before Matron pulled into a field. Joe cried out as we bumped over the rough ground. I’d never been a believer but by God I prayed to anybody who’d listen, ‘Please let him be okay.’
People arrived to help us out the back but Matron said, ‘No. Leave Joe there and I’ll take him straight to the hospital. He’s in a bad way.’ Hands plucked Stacey and Gemma from Stuart and carried them off to join a crowd of other kids. It looked like our kids were a few of many.
Stuart looked at me. ‘What have I done?’
‘You saved Chelsea… us.’
‘I’ve ruined everything.’
‘What? No. It…’
He shook his head, jumped out of the truck and walked away.
Matron stopped me from running after him. ‘He can wait. You need to be with Joe.’
‘But…’
‘No buts. Joe’s looked after you all this time, now it’s your turn to give something back.’
I looked at Joe, pale and still. I climbed back in the truck. I didn’t know what I’d have said anyway.
‘Don’t worry,’ Matron said. ‘If that boy loves you, he’ll wait for you.’
Matron drove to a hospital tucked behind some woods half way up a mountain. When we stopped and I climbed out of the truck, it felt like stepping into a rain-cloud. The mist permeated my skin and dampened my bones. Somebody wandered over my grave and the shiver wouldn’t ease up: it even set my teeth chattering. Once we were inside, they came and took Joe away from me, wheeling him on a trolley that rolled with a genteel whoosh down a long white corridor.
Matron looked me up and down. ‘Look at the state of you.’
Bits of Alcoholic’s nose intermingled with Crawlsfeld’s scalp, smudged by a whole lot of blood, tie-dyed my t-shirt. ‘None of its mine.’
‘Well that, at least, is something.’ She pointed to a chair in a line of three against the wall. ‘Sit there and warm up a little. I’ll try and find somebody to help us out.’
But, oddly, I didn’t feel cold despite all the evidence to the contrary. My head hummed and the fuff fuff of my top teeth against my lower lip sounded loud in the silence. I struggled to control my shakes and figure out exactly what had just happened. The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. Perhaps I really had gone insane.
‘Atty?’ I looked up at a nurse not much older than me. I didn’t want to speak in case I still sounded weird so simply nodded, gormless and gungy. She smiled and handed me a square parcel. ‘If you come with me I’ll show you where you can get cleaned up.’
The shower ran hot enough to scald. I stood and leaned my forehead against the tiles so the water hit hard on the back of my neck. Perhaps the brain can only take so much crap at any one time, too much and it shuts down or stalls. Mine still seemed to be struggling on Fran.
I’ve always wished I could be more like you, do you know that?
Her body hanging so still. Then I saw Stuart’s face smiling and his lips heading towards mine, his fingers in the hair at the back of my neck. Joe bleeding,
Sorry about this
.
My knee throbbed. It swelled so large it felt like it might pop like a water balloon. I used a nailbrush on my hands to get the stench of the fat alcoholic off me. His stink coated my skin and I scrubbed all over again and again. By the time I climbed out of the shower, my skin glowed red and squeaky clean.
The square packet off the nurse contained matching white underwear and a blue nurse’s uniform, a set - trousers and smock, like pyjamas. I put them on and left my new, trendy but mangled, gear crammed into the small, white dustbin in the corner. I needed to get out of there. All the white was giving me a throbbing headache and my stomach queased. I felt dizzy and travel sick.
Matron was waiting for me in the corridor. She was dressed in the same blue outfit so we looked like odd-ball twins in an asylum for the strange. Or jail.
We sat together in silence until the doctors came out of the operating theatre scratching their heads, unable to figure out why Joe hadn’t died. ‘It’s incredible. He’s been hit by a single bullet, straight through his side, but it missed his vital organs and he should make a full recovery.’
‘It’s quite some miracle,’ said yet another kid not much older than me. He, like the others, must have been through the schools – rich privileged nob-heads saving Joe’s life.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re very welcome. It’s my pleasure. He’s asking for you by the way.’ And that’s when I cried. And did I ever make up for the dry period. I slobbered violently with snot everywhere.
Matron sighed. ‘It’s the come-down, love. Anybody can fight, but the mark of a true soldier is how they cope after the event.’ She sniffed. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘No way.’ Now it had been set free, my self-pity knew no bounds. I snivelled and whined. ‘I’m not doing anything like this again. I’m going to get a job in a shop or something.’
‘From what I hear, you show great promise.’
‘Huh. Yeah right.’
She laughed. ‘Joe’s been saying for years he’ll be handing the Basley reins over to you.’ She touched my leg. ‘When the time is right.’
‘Hell no. He’s not stupid enough to trust me again.’
‘Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself.’ She took her hand away, tucked it in her lap and tutted. ‘Pull yourself together.’
I sat and watched Joe sleep. Another quiet snoozer. He breathed slow and even; his strapped-up chest barely moved. Overnight I nodded off but only for minutes at a time, my head falling forward, jerking me awake.
When Joe woke he gazed at the ceiling before sensing me sitting to his right. He looked and grinned. ‘Hey, Atty bam bam. Thanks for saving my shiny black backside.’
God I loved him so much. Nobody else would ever put as much effort into making me feel better about myself. I wanted to let the tears have their head again, tell him how sorry I was, and swear I’d never cack up so catastrophically again. But his eyes weren’t grinning. His eyes were wet and sad. If I cried it would upset him and, despite his pain, he was putting in the work to make things normal so the least I could do was play along.
I grinned back. ‘No problem. Anytime you need me – I’m there.’
‘I know that.’ He gave me a serious look that read everything going on in my head, right to the back of my brain. Probably even those things I couldn’t make sense of myself.
I rolled my eyes and turned away. ‘Stop doing that.’
‘Things will get better, Atty. There’ll be other jobs. Other chances.’
I looked at the ceiling, tapped my heels on the shiny floor and tried to think about something neutral. But there wasn’t anything. My eyes stung and my throat closed up. I so did not want to blub all over him. ‘Sure there will.’ I forced myself to look at him and smile. ‘I know that.’
He nodded and flinched.
‘You okay? Shall I call someone?’
‘No. I’m bound to be a bit sore.’ He looked at me sideways. ‘Though, it’s just a scratch, of course.’
Another middle-aged lamer but I forced out a laugh. ‘Course it is.’
‘Hey. Your face don’t look so pretty.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
The child-nurse came in. ‘Ah, awake already? Fabulous.’ She faffed around with his chart and drip, and scribbled something on an old-fashioned tablet which she then placed in her pocket.
Joe pulled a face behind her back and mouthed ‘How verrry farrbulous.’
She turned and caught him at it, slapped his hand. ‘Don’t take the piss out of me. Else I won’t be putting any gin in your drip.’
‘Okay, bossy knickers. No need to get physical. How soon can I go home?’
She looked at me. ‘Is he always so impatient?’
Nurses and their happy chatty conversations about nothing at all - people like her chirruped away all the time to pass the hours and lighten the mood. I don’t know how they do it, day after day.
By the time the nurse left the room, Joe had brightened to the point of being almost chirpy. ‘Did that boy of yours get home okay?
‘Stuart? I don’t know where he is. I left him in a field near the Manor.’
‘Gavin.’
Oh sheesh. I’d forgotten about him. Again. ‘Um. I’m guessing so.’
Joe second-glanced me.
‘Well,’ I said, deliberately reading him wrong. ‘I wanted to be here with you, when you woke up. He could be anywhere.’
‘I hope you haven’t got attached to that easty lad.’
‘Why not? He’s on the same side as us. We’re fighting the same battles.’
‘Don’t kid yourself. Different planets.’ He lay and looked at the ceiling.
The silence thickened the air. I hated it. ‘What is this place anyway? Is it secure?’
‘Yeah. Activists come here from all over the country. Lucky for me it’s right where I needed it, uh?’ He smiled but he kept the strange look in his eye. ‘I’m going to have to be straight with you, Atty. The kids on the west will stop trusting you if you hang out with an easty.’
He could talk. ‘That nurse you’ve just made old-man’s eyes at. She isn’t exactly from good westy stock, is she?’
‘I’m not saying we shouldn’t get along, work for the same cause, we can even share the same dreams.’
‘So what are you saying?’
‘We’re just different, that’s all.’
‘That’s no answer and you know it.’
‘If you want to be a lead player, you need to keep a certain distance. Respect the boundaries and stop trying to break in some easty lad.’
‘I do. I mean I’m not. He’s not a horse.’
‘So you’re going to move east, are you? Start painting your nails?’
‘Don’t be daft. I’m just gathering a little easty support is all.’ No way did I want to talk about Stuart with Joe. Not then. Not ever. For a few days I’d been elsewhere and somebody different. Everything had been flipped inside out and I didn’t know what I wanted or where I wanted to be any more. Being a part of the resistance might not be as important to me as it once was. Certainly not if it meant I couldn’t be with Stuart.
‘You need to find Gavin,’ said Joe.
I opened my mouth.
‘I know, I know.’ Joe shook his head like he oozed disappointment and bitterness. ‘He’s messed you about a bit. But deep down he’s a good kid.’
‘You want me to settle.’
‘I want you to be happy. I’m not saying this Stuart doesn’t mean what he said, just that the situation, you know, the adrenaline and fear, it does strange things to a kid. Even if he meant all he said at the time, and tomorrow, next week, even next year. Eventually the differences between you would rise to the surface. Like scum on bath water. And then all that teeny love and mush-crush you got going would start to stink.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I said. ‘We’d be the exception. And it’s not a crush.’ I hadn’t intended to ask questions which might stress him out or have a fight with him, but since he’d started it, ‘And if my happiness is so important to you, why didn’t you mention my dad is definitely still alive?’
His head jerked around. ‘Who told you that?’ He stared wide-eyed, mouth open.
‘Oh, didn’t you know?’ Sarky and angry, not a tear bursting from anywhere. ‘I’ve even seen a photo of him. On a leaflet promoting unity, would you believe?’
Joe leaned back against the mountain of pillows and looked at the ceiling. ‘Ah. That.’
‘Yes. That.’
‘I’d been waiting to check out if it was true before I said anything.’ He sounded weary. ‘It could be a load of tosh and I didn’t want to build your hopes up.’
‘I keep telling you, I don’t need your protection any more…’ I tailed off. If he hadn’t turned up at the manor I might have been a little snooked.
A nurse came in. ‘I think Joe could do with some rest now. There’s somebody here to take you home.’
Joe watched me stand up, his eyes deep and soft. ‘Atty I swear to you, if he’s alive I’ll find him.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘I know. Sorry.’
Some people might call what we had volatile, all the ups and downs, the fights and the banter. It had worked for a long time, but something had changed and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I stepped up to the bed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. I’d never done that before. His face felt smooth and dry. I wanted to thank him for caring and for forgiving me and for loving me – and tell him how much I loved him back. But we didn’t do the emotional stuff and the words wouldn’t come. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Things will get back to normal soon enough, Atty. You’ll see.’
‘Yeah, course.’ But for the first time I doubted him, we’d changed, I’d changed and maybe things would never return to how they were. Ever.