Robert Swindells: Daz 4 Zoe

I took my time, and the garden gate opened just as I reached the can. The crewman gave me a little nod, with his eyes down the way they do, but as I put down the sack he moved up real close, hissed, ‘Here – take it,’ and thrust a crumpled bit of paper in my hand.

I knew what it was and my heart kicked. I shoved it in my pocket, hoping nobody was watching from the house. As the guy went to pick up the sack I drew out my own note and slipped it to him. ‘Daz,’ I whispered. ‘Black Diamond. The money’s for you.’ I’d folded a couple of bills in the note. He nodded, looking past me at the house. I turned and walked away.

‘Did that man speak to you?’ asked Mum as I came in. She’d watched through the kitchen window. I nodded, trying to look cool. ‘Yeah, y’know – rough weather, cold work. Something like that.’

‘Well, I hope you didn’t encourage him, dear. They’re here to work, not fraternize.’

‘I know, Mum. I didn’t encourage him.’ It must be tough having a Chippy-lover for a kid.

Like I said, it must’ve been my lucky day. The spelling wasn’t hot but what he’d written was beautiful. I read it over till I had it by heart, then shredded the note and flushed it down the John. I hated doing that, but to keep it would’ve been just too dangerous. And after that I got my coat and set off for the Wentworth residence. My luck might continue – who knows?

It did continue, but it threw up a bit of a mystery as well. See what you make of it.

I arrived at five to ten and rang the bell. This Chippy girl, Zena, usually answers. She’s a sort of maid but she doesn’t live in. That’s not permitted, and I sometimes used to wonder how she coped with the contrast between the beautiful house she worked in all day and the dump she went back to at night. Anyway, she didn’t answer this time. Nobody did at first, and I was just telling myself they weren’t going to when an eye appeared at the peephole and the door opened, and it was the guy himself. Paul Wentworth, Tabby’s old man. He’d a peculiar look on his face and I thought, this is it – he’s going to tell me to get lost, but he didn’t. He said, ‘Come on in, Zoe,’ and as he said it his eyes were darting around like he was trying to see in all directions at once. He shut the door so fast I almost lost a foot.

He took my coat and asked how I was and if Mum and Dad were well, but I could tell he was thinking about something else. He put me in the library (no, I’m not kidding – the Wentworth residence has its own library) and went off to get Tabby.

I was standing on a rug so thick it practically reached my knees, warming myself by the fire and gazing round at all the books when Tabby came in.

‘Hi.’ She grinned her old grin and I felt really good. ‘Hi, Tabby,’ I said. ‘Where’s Zena?’

‘Oh, we – she’s not here anymore. What shall we do today?’

Quick change of subject. I looked at her. ‘Is something wrong, Tabby?’

She shook her head. ‘No, ’course not. Why should there be?’

‘Your Dad. He seemed – I dunno – sort of nervous. Has something happened?’

‘No. Not really. Listen.’ She put her hand on my arm. ‘If I’m a bit cool at school – if I seem to go along with the other kids when they tease you, it’s because I have to, Zoe. I can’t explain. Not now. But I want you to know I’m the same friend I always was.’ She smiled and squeezed my arm. ‘We all are, in this house. Okay?’

I nodded and smiled and said okay, but I wasn’t satisfied. I felt sure there was something going on that I wasn’t supposed to ask about so I didn’t, and we went up to Tabby’s room and played some of her fabulous records and talked about boys and clothes and all that, and lunchtime we went down Chiefy’s for hamburgers, but it wasn’t like it used to be. I’d intended telling her all about Daz – the notes and everything, but I didn’t. At three-thirty when I was leaving she squeezed my arm again and said ‘remember’ with tears in her eyes, and I walked home not knowing whether the day had made things better or worse.

And when I walked in the house the police were waiting.

‘Hello, Zoe. I’m Lieutenant Pohlman, Domestic Security. This is Sergeant Daws. We’d like to talk to you if that’s all right.’

Domestic Security. Sounds cosy, right? Forget it. Domestic Security’s the outfit that spies on Subbies and shoots Chippies. The outfit responsible for keeping us in and them out. They’re the guys the government pays to keep everything jogging along exactly the way it is, and they’ll do just about anything to see that it does. So when the lieutenant said we’d like, and if that’s alright, I knew he wasn’t offering me choices.

I don’t mind admitting I was scared. Everybody’s scared of DS, but I wasn’t so much scared for myself as for Daz. Oh, I knew this could only be about him, and if DS knew about us then whatever they did to me would be nothing compared with what they’d do to him. I assumed they’d intercepted my note and I wondered briefly what had become of the trash crew.

Dad and Mum tried to talk to me but Pohlman got between us and said something to Daws and the sergeant ushered them out the room like it was his house and they were the callers. I heard Mum say she’s fourteen for godsake, and then the door closed and it was just me and the lieutenant.

He told me to sit down which was just as well, because I’d probably have fallen down if he hadn’t. He took the other chair and said ‘Where you been today, Zoe?’ He was smiling and all like somebody’s favourite uncle but he didn’t fool me. I guessed my parents would have told him I was at Tabby’s, so I told him that too.

‘Tabby. That’d be Tabitha Wentworth, Paul Went-worth’s kid, right?’

‘Right.’

‘They still let her see you?’

‘I – sure they do. Why not?’

‘You had some trouble in school, didn’t you?’

‘What trouble – what d’you mean?’

‘I think you know what I’m talking about, Zoe. I’m talking about Miss Moncrieff. About an imposition you did for her. I’m talking about brainwashing, Zoe.’

‘Oh, that. Yeah, there was a bit of hassle about that. It’s over now.’

‘Is it?’ he leaned forward, and he must be one of those guys who can’t lean and smile at the same time because the smile faded.

‘Is it over, Zoe? Don’t some of the kids call you names? One name in particular? Don’t they call you Chippy-lover?’ His face got red as he spoke, and spit flew from his lips when he said Chippy. I shrugged. ‘Sure. Some do. I take no notice.’

This seemed to make him sore. ‘You take no notice? Your friends call you Chippy-lover and you take no notice? Don’t you like to have friends, or what?’ He was almost shouting.

‘They’re not my friends.’ I spoke softly. He sat back and ran his tongue along his lip. ‘Who are your friends, Zoe?’

‘I dunno. I guess I don’t have too many friends right now. Maybe I don’t have any at all.’ I wasn’t about to give him names. The friend of a Chippy-lover is a Chippy-lover.

‘Aw, come on.’ The smile was back. ‘It’s not that bad, surely? You have at least one friend, dontcha?’

‘Do I?’

‘Why, sure you do. Tabby. She’s your friend, right? You just spent the day with her.’

‘We – talked. It’s not like it was.’

‘Ah.’ His eyebrows went up. ‘Are you surprised about that, Zoe?’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Does it surprise you that friends might want to withdraw their friendship from a person who makes trouble in the community?’