Cath Staincliffe - Witness

‘Jesus Christ,’ Vicky said quietly. ‘What on earth is it?’

Cheryl

It was hot for once and Milo was fretting after his midday nap so Cheryl texted Vinia. Asked if she’d like to hang out. Take Milo down the play park together. Vinia was cool with it. Said half an hour and pitched up in twenty which was some sort of a record. She was always late was Vinia, be late for her own funeral, that girl, Nana said. Many a time.

Nana had gone to church after giving out about how it would do the child good to visit the Lord, like she always did. How back home in Jamaica no one would dare miss church. And Cheryl nodded and shrugged and then objected that Milo had gone down and she wasn’t going to wake him.

‘Where did I go wrong?’ Nana muttered to the mirror, adjusting the veil on her hat. ‘Well?’ She turned to Cheryl, one arm out, palm up, the other on her waist. Asking now for Cheryl’s opinion about her outfit.

‘Fine.’ Cheryl nodded at the navy skirt suit. Gold buckles on the shoes, anchors on the suit buttons. Nautical Nana. ‘More than fine.’ Cheryl grinned.

‘Splendid?’ Nana demanded.

‘Splendid.’

Nana clapped her hands but the gloves muffled the sound. She went to the door. ‘I might go back with Rose.’

‘Okay,’ said Cheryl.

‘There’s some casserole left if you peckish.’

‘Ta, Nana.’

Since then Milo had woken, grumpy at first, then refreshed, and she’d fed him a banana sandwich and some juice and changed his nappy.

He had some words now; it cracked her up to hear him. ‘Woof’ had been his first word and they still couldn’t pass a dog, a picture of a dog, or hear a dog bark without Milo on the case.

Milo squealed when he saw Vinia and she picked him up and pretended to eat his cheeks, making him writhe and giggle.

When she put him down, Cheryl told him to get in his buggy and he toddled over to it and climbed in. Gave a little one-two kick of his legs in anticipation.

‘I need some cigs,’ Vinia said.

‘Call at Sid’s,’ said Cheryl. Shorthand for Siddique’s – the corner shop.

Cheryl manoeuvred the buggy out of the door and Vinia followed. Cheryl liked the heat. She’d been itching to wear her new shorts and the halter top and today was the day. Her figure was just as good as before she had Milo. Mile high legs, the agency had said, potential runway material. She’d done a few shoots, adverts, mainly print for magazines and promotions, just one for TV, but all that was impossible now, couldn’t pitch up for castings with Milo under her arm.

The sun was fierce and made the colours stronger, the red of the brick walls, the green of the plants in the hanging baskets that some people had up. The sky too looked bluer, a great bowl of blue, not a cloud anywhere. Nana had a tub by the door, no garden at the front ’cos the houses opened right on to the street, and in the tub there was a rose climbing up the wall, big, creamy flowers with that smell of lemon and spice. The smell was stronger, as well.

At the corner, Vinia went into Sid’s and Cheryl waited outside with Milo, watching people coming and going. Plenty of people out, making the most of the good weather. A guy walked by on the other side of the street, skinny, grimy, bare-chested and his skin milk-white, with a backpack on. A dog at his heels. Cheryl didn’t know him.

‘Woof!’ chirruped Milo.

‘Yes, woof,’ Cheryl agreed.

‘Woof!’ Milo was alive with glee. Like he’d never seen a dog before and this was the best dog in the universe. ‘Woof!’ He kept it up, one dimpled finger pointing to the dog, until they disappeared round the turning. Even with the dog gone, Milo muttered ‘Woof’ a couple more times. Savouring the memory.

Danny Macateer came along. A good kid. He stopped to say hello to Milo.

‘Why fer yer not at church?’ Cheryl mimicked her nana. Danny cracked a smile. She knew he got the same from his Nana Rose, and his mum. Nana Rose and Nana had come over on the same boat, way back. Young married women moving with their husbands, answering the call for workers.

‘Rehearsal,’ Danny said to Cheryl.

‘Safe!’ She nodded with approval. ‘You got any gigs?’

‘Maybe Night and Day.’

Cheryl knew it, a bar on Oldham Street that showcased new talent. She’d been to a poetry slam there once.

‘Way! Let us know.’

He nodded, a flush to his cheeks, still awkward with female attention. Cheryl was surprised that no one had snapped him up. A good-looker with brains and an easy way to him. Staying out of trouble, so far. Killer smile. If he was a few years older…

‘Later.’ Danny put his fist to Milo’s. The toddler bumped his hand against the teenager’s. Tiny against the boy’s paw. Cheryl tried to imagine Milo growing that big.

‘Woof,’ the child said.

‘Later.’ Danny nodded to Cheryl.

‘See ya.’

He went on his way. Vinia came out of the shop, lighting a cigarette. Passed one to Cheryl. She lit up, relishing the kick in her throat, the fuzzy sensation at the back of her neck as the nicotine got to work.

They set off again, Cheryl negotiating the buggy to pass people on the narrow pavement. A couple of guys went past, eyes appraising her, one of them whistled, his mate groaned. Cheryl played dumb. Used to it.

‘We’re going to the park, Milo,’ Cheryl said. ‘To the swings.’ He waved one hand.

Cheryl smiled. A lot of people would slag her off – single mum, teenage pregnancy, living on benefits – but Milo was the best thing that ever happened to her. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t do anything else with her life. Get back into modelling once he was in school. Cheryl did nails at home for a bit of extra cash. She had a flair for it. She could do something in that line, if the modelling didn’t take off. Not just beauty though, make-up for film or TV, or music videos. See her name in the credits.

Vinia worked afternoons at H &M in the Arndale. Minimum wage but a discount on the clothes. Vinia blew most of her money on clothes there. She lived at home still. Everyone Cheryl knew was still at home. Crazy prices for flats and houses, even with the recession. Cheryl didn’t mind living with Nana, it helped with having Milo too, she could leave him if she had to go somewhere or she needed a break. Nana could be a bit preachy but she’d lie down and die for Cheryl.

Vinia was telling her about a jacket she had her eyes on, white denim with beading, when a car came round the corner way too fast, the engine snarling. Cheryl pulled the buggy back sharpish and leaned into the wall, away from the road. The car was a silver BMW. Cheryl knew the car, knew the two guys in it: Sam Millins and Carlton. Carlton was Vinia’s stepbrother. They were both bad news. The car roared past them and took a right at Sid’s.

‘You heard about the Nineteen Crew?’ Vinia asked her, keeping her voice low.

Cheryl shook her head.

‘Fired into Sam’s house last night.’

Cheryl swallowed. ‘Anyone hurt?’

‘Nah. They were lucky, man.’ Vinia shook her head. ‘But everyone’s wanting payback now.’

‘Wankers,’ said Cheryl. Vinia cut her eyes at her, a warning. Vinia had to be careful around Carlton. He was a man with a lot of power. A dangerous man. Twenty-four years old and running the neighbourhood like some feudal prince.

Cheryl sighed. Eased the buggy back into the centre of the pavement.

‘Dry clean only.’ Vinia was returning to the theme of her jacket when a loud crack split the air, echoing through the sunlit streets. Vinia looked at Cheryl, Cheryl gave a slight shake of her head. This she did not want. It was never-ending. Tit for tat. Boys running wild with guns and knives.