Authors: Steve Augarde
“All the newbies have to go through it.” Robbie spoke, and Baz turned his horrified attention to him. “And usually you’re just down there a couple of minutes. It stinks, and it’s scary, but most people can stand it as long as the lid doesn’t go back on. It’s just to show you who’s boss, see. After that, you don’t give any trouble. But if the capos have really got it in for you – then look out. “Cos that’s how they get rid of you.”
“What do you mean “get rid of you”?” Baz had visions of being locked in a drain forever, drowning in sewage...
“If they give you the real treatment, a few hours of it, then you’ll do anything not to go down there again,” said Robbie. “Anything. So if the capos wanna get rid of you, they tell you it’s gonna be the same next Sunday, and the Sunday after that. If you don’t want that to happen, your only chance is to get out of here – back to the mainland. Quickest way to do that is you refuse to work. So you refuse to work, and you’re on the next boat back. And I’ll tell you what – you’d need some guts to tell Isaac you’re not gonna work. But that’s how bad it is down the hole.”
“Christ. Do the divers know what goes on? Does Preacher John?”
“Preacher John knows everything. And yeah, Isaac knows for sure. He’s only got two capos. How’re two capos gonna keep eight kids working flat out? By scaring the crap out of ’em, that’s how. See, they can’t beat us up too badly, ’cos we belong to Preacher John. You saw what happened to Steiner on the day you got here. But if you know the hole’s there waiting for you on Sunday, then you don’t give ’em any trouble during the week.”
“So... you reckon that’s gonna happen to me and Ray?”
“Happens to everyone, mate. But for you it could be worse than normal, ’cos you went for Steiner. That’s why we’re warning you. Last Sunday it was these other new kids, Danny and Simon—’ Robbie stopped talking and looked at Amit. Once again Baz got the impression that too much had been said. But then Amit picked up the story.
“Yeah. Danny and Simon. Gobby kids – gave the capos some lip. And we didn’t like them much either.” Amit looked uncomfortable. “So on Sunday they both got shoved down the hole. Came up yelling and puking, and next thing you know they’re gone. Back to the mainland. Didn’t you see them get off the boat?”
“No, they’d already been dropped off, somewhere up the coast. But did you warn them too?” Baz wanted to know. “About what was gonna happen?”
Silence.
“No? So that’s what you call looking out for your mates?” Baz couldn’t help making the dig. He felt that it was justified.
“Yeah.” Amit sighed. “I know. Those of us that’ve been here a while, we... we’ve kind of got used to just looking out for each other, I s’pose. Newbies come over on the boat, they take their chances. If they get the treatment and they can’t stand it, well, tough. They get sent back. And at least that means it wasn’t one of us. Some other newbie turns up, and then
he
gets sent down the hole and... that’s how it goes.” He rubbed his forehead. “But you’re right. This place is such a screw-up. Something’s gotta change.”
Baz picked up the saw again, and his wad of wire wool. Simply for something to hold onto. “Couldn’t we just hide and keep out of their way? Like in the main building? It’s big enough.”
Amit laughed at that. “No. There’s nowhere to hide. You can’t get up to the next floor. There’s only two staircases. One of ’em’s collapsed, and the other’s down in the divers’ bit. You could probably stay out of the way if you kept moving, but then somebody else’d cop it for not telling where you were. We can’t all hide every Sunday. Not till night time, we couldn’t. And you know – I gotta say this, Baz – I think Ray might get it worse than you, anyhow. He’ll probably be first.”
“Oh, great. That’s all right then.”
“Yeah, but I’m serious. See, that Ray...” Amit shook his head. “Steiner’s got it in for him already. And he’ll get him one way or another, so you better warn him.”
Baz began rubbing down the saw again and didn’t say anything for a while. He thought about Steiner’s ugly face, rain dripping from his long freckled chin... bare gingery knees...
And he thought about Ray, out there now, pushing his barrow up and down the hill. No idea of what was going on, or what might happen to him. That seemed almost worse for some reason. God.
“Anything else we should know?” he said. “What about that guy Cookie? What’s with him?”
“Cookie?” Amit shrugged his shoulders. “He’s just a fat slob. We hardly see him. He’s gone in the morning before the rest of us, and he’s down there in the kitchen till night time. Doesn’t usually come back till after dark. Sometimes they lock him in the slob room during the afternoon for a couple of hours if there’s nothing for him to do. He cooks for the divers – cleans up, I s’pose. Don’t know what else he does, but it’s seven days a week. We don’t have anything to do with him.”
“He can’t help being overweight, can he?”
“’Tisn’t just that. He spends more time with the divers than he does with us, so we can’t trust him. Gotta watch what you say around Cookie, case it gets passed on, so it’s best to say nothing.”
“And what about the divers? Are they dangerous as well?” Baz wanted to get as much information now as he could.
“Yeah. They’d dump you in the sea for a bottle of vodka – kill you soon as look at you – but it’s easy enough to keep out of their way. Drinking and Ladies’ Day, that’s all they care about.”
“Huh?”
“Ladies’ Day. That’s what they call it. “Bout once a month they pick up a bunch of women from somewhere on the mainland – trade ’em, you know, pay ’em. They bring ’em over on a Friday night, take ’em back Saturday morning. The girls come here all dressed up, make-up and stuff, but they don’t look so hot next day. Gets a bit rough, I reckon. Preacher John knows about it. He doesn’t join in, though.”
Baz carried on working. He’d learned a lot in the last fifteen minutes – more than enough to be going on with – and he’d have to give it all some thought. But the first thing he needed to do was warn Ray of what was about to happen.
“This saw’s about as good as it’s ever gonna be,” he said. “What do you want me to do next?”
Come supper time the tools were all cleaned, oiled, stacked and logged onto Hutchinson’s clipboard.
“You got those codes, newbie?” Hutchinson said as he walked past Baz. “Yeah? Gimme tomato soup – Somerby’s and Patterson’s.”
“Er, Somerby’s is just
CTS.
Patterson’s is oh-oh-oh-four, er, stroke thirty-two.” Baz was looking at the broad figure of Hutchinson with new eyes. Trying to imagine being shoved down a sewer by him... and then trying
not
to imagine...
“OK. Spaghetti. Patterson’s and Costcut.”
“Patterson’s... oh-oh-oh-four... stroke fifteen. Costcut, um,
P
... twenty-three.”
“That’ll do. Next time you’re on sort room you can learn main brands.” Hutchinson moved on.
Baz looked up at the high dirt-streaked windows and saw the clouds gathering in the darkening skies, as usual. Funny how the weather was so predictable now. It nearly always rained in the evenings. He’d almost forgotten what proper weather was like. How different the seasons used to be. Summer. Winter. Those cold frosty mornings when you could see your breath as you stood waiting for the school bus. The long summer holidays, lying out on the dried-up front lawn, trying to get some last-minute homework done. Mum saying to come inside and put on some sunscreen or you’d be sorry later...
There was a rap on the main fire doors, and Baz could see vague figures through the reinforced glass. It was the jetty crew returning. The left-hand door swung back, and Dyson came in. Then there was some kind of struggle. The remaining figures didn’t seem to be able to get through the gap. Dyson was already turning round, pushing at the second door. Baz couldn’t catch what was going on at first, because Dyson was in the way. But then he saw.
Jubo stumbled awkwardly into the room, along with Enoch – and between them they were more or less carrying Ray. They had his arms slung about their necks, and his feet were dragging on the ground. Jesus. They’d killed him.
Baz immediately stepped forward, a ball of fury rising in his chest, but then Robbie was there – appearing in front of him – one arm stuck out to bar his way.
“Hang on,” Robbie whispered. “Just wait a second.”
Steiner came through the fire doors, shoulders back, arms folded, a relaxed swagger. He looked at Hutchinson for a moment, pale eyebrows raised, then turned towards the sorry figure of Ray. He put one finger up to his chin as if in contemplation, all very theatrical, and made a sucking sound through his teeth.
“Cornflake Kid’s had a busy day,” he said. “Hey, you!” He looked towards Baz. “Come and prop up this useless piece of crap.”
Again Baz felt a moment of restraint from Robbie’s arm and heard his low whisper: ‘Just watch out. Don’t give him any excuse.”
It was good advice, and Baz managed to hold himself in control as he walked down the room.
“All right,” he said to Enoch. “I’ve got him.” Baz put his head under Ray’s arm, shifted his balance and took the weight. “It’s OK, Jubo, I can do it. Leave him to me.”
Enoch and Jubo stepped aside. They both looked exhausted.
Steiner said, “Enoch, you’re not done yet. Get me nine tins and put ’em down by t’ bench. You know the drill by now: three meat, two spaghetti, two beans, two tomatoes.”
Baz saw the questioning look on Hutchinson’s face, and heard Steiner mutter, “Don’t worry, Hutch. I’ve got it sorted.”
Ray’s legs just weren’t working properly at all, and by the time Baz had managed to get him down to the workbench area, the tins were already arranged on the floor. The other boys were gathered round. They’d left a gap so that Baz and Ray could join the circle.
“You first, Gene,” said Steiner. “Go ahead.”
Gene stooped down and took his tin.
“OK.” Steiner looked at Hutchinson. “Enoch’s my top dog today. Who’s yours? I’m guessing it could be Taps, right?”
Steiner held Hutchinson’s eye for another moment, nodding his head slightly.
“Uh... yeah.” Hutchinson seemed to catch on. “You’re right. It’s Taps,” he said.
“OK, then. Top-dogs-ready-go.”
Enoch was sliding across the floor before Taps had even realized that he’d been picked as top dog. Dyson had to give him a shove. “Go on, dummy.”
Taps stumbled forward. He hesitated over the tins, plainly bewildered at finding himself having to make such a decision. Finally he picked one up and stepped back.
“OK. Rest-of-you-ready-go.”
Baz stayed where he was, still propping up Ray, as all around him dived inwards. He hadn’t even bothered to look at the tins or make any sort of plan. There was no point.
Once everyone was back on their feet again, the two inevitable tins of tomatoes were all that remained on the grimy sort-room floor.
“Oh dear.” Steiner was reveling in his triumph. “Bit slow again there, girls. OK, that’s your lot. Get back to t’ slob room.”
Baz turned to Amit. “Pick ours up for us, will you?”
Amit glanced up at Hutchinson, perhaps to see if there might be any objection to this, then said, “Yeah, sure.” His brown face looked a shade paler than usual, lips pressed together in a thin line.
Once the door of the slob room had closed behind them, Amit exploded.
“Right.
Sod
them, then. I’ve had it with this!” He strode off towards the sink unit, carrying the two tins of tomatoes, along with whatever he’d managed to get for himself. He reached up and grabbed a large saucepan from the shelf above the unit, then banged it down on the cluttered draining board.
Baz waited as Robbie got his shoulder beneath Ray’s other arm, and then between the two of them they managed to get him to his mattress. They laid him on his back, and stood up to take a proper look.
“God, what a state,” said Robbie.
Some of the other boys began to gather round. Ray was deathly white, but not unconscious. His eyes were open now, and he raised a forearm to shield himself from the light. The palms of his hands were torn and bleeding.
Baz was trying to control his anger, trying to think practically. “I’ll get some plasters from under the sink,” he said. “Disinfectant, whatever. Try and patch him up a bit.”
But Amit was still occupying the sink area, banging around with saucepans and can-openers.
“OK – listen.” He walked towards the group of boys, bringing the largest saucepan with him. “If Steiner’s going to keep doing this friggin’ tomato thing then somebody’s gonna end up starving every day. So the only fair way is to stick everything we get into one pot, and share it out between us, yeah? I’ve put my beans in here along with the tomatoes. Everybody else does the same, and we’ll be OK. Come on. Open your tins and sling it all in together.”
“Yeah, good idea, Amit.” Robbie picked at the ring-pull on his tin. “Should have done this before.”
But Robbie was the only one to immediately fall in with Amit’s thinking.
“Whoa, whoa.” Dyson held up a hand. “Who are you to suddenly start telling everyone what to do, Amit? Maybe not everyone wants to go along with this. Like me, for a kick-off. I’m not eating any friggin’ tomatoes – not if I can help it.”
“So you’re gonna stand by and watch other kids starve?”
“Hey, we all take our chances. If it’s me that’s too slow on the night, then it’ll be me that ends up with tomatoes. Simple as that.”
“Too slow?” Amit pointed down at Ray. “That poor bleeder can’t even stand up. What chance did he have tonight?”
“OK, so Steiner’s got it in for him, and that’s tough. But whose fault’s that? You go picking fights with a capo and you get what’s coming to you – tomatoes!”
“So you’re out.” Amit looked disgusted.
“Yeah, I’m out. Good luck with the Bleedin’ Hearts Club.” Dyson walked away towards the sink area and began rummaging through the cutlery drawer.
Amit watched him go, then turned back to the rest of the group. “Friggin’ unbelievable. OK, well, let’s see who’s in. Baz?”
“Well, yeah, it’s fine by me. And Ray’ll be in for sure. I know we got nothing to lose tonight, but I think it’s a good idea anyway.”