Robert Swindells - Daz 4 Zoe

Oh Zoe i do anifing 2 make you happy. wolk a fousan myle. slap Cal mouf.

anifing.

So there I was, alone with the old lady. The pill was working and she was okay with me, but still and all I knew I wasn’t welcome and that’s a bad feeling.

I thought the stuff I’d brought might make it better so I got my anorak and emptied the pockets on to the table. She sat and watched, saying nothing. I’d hoped her face might light up or something but it didn’t. When everything was on the table I said, ‘This stuff’s for you. I hope you can use it.’ She looked at it for a minute and then she said, ‘Is this all you brought?’ I felt a stab of anger. Here I was trying to be friends with her, giving her stuff she’d probably never seen in her life and all she could do was criticise because I hadn’t brought more. I looked at her, ‘What d’you mean, all? Can you get stuff like this, even in small quantities?’

She shook her head. ‘Didn’t mean that, girl. This house never saw such goodies. What I mean is, where’s your clothes? Shoes? The stuff you’re wearing won’t last forever, y’know, and you can’t just go to the store and buy more like you could in Silverdale.’ She nodded at the food and things. ‘You better hang on to that – it’ll get you strong shoes and a change of underwear, but you’d have done better to bring them along in the first place.’

She really put me down. I’d planned to offer my little store of cash, too, but she’d only tell me I was going to need it, which was true. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I had to leave in a hurry. I had no time to plan, but I thought it’d be nice to bring along some of the stuff you can’t get here, that’s all’

To my surprise she leant across the table and squeezed my arm. ‘It was a nice thought, only -.’ Tears glittered in the creases at the corners of her eyes. ‘Can you imagine my face with lipstick? This face? And what’s the use of being clean and smelling nice for a week if you’ve got to go back to -.’

She broke off and got up, gathering the three chipped mugs. I followed her out to the kitchen. I know it’s silly, but I expected she’d run hot water into the sink, squirt in some washing-up liquid, wash the mugs and hand them over hot and steamy for me to wipe.

There was a sink. A stainless steel one, but like the elevator you only had to see it to know it hadn’t been used in a long time. Its taps were dry and rusted and a foul smell rose from its drain. On a worktop beside it stood a battered plastic bucket with water in it. The water looked grey and scummy and Mrs Barraclough did the mugs in it, dipping them quickly and standing them upside down on the drainer. I looked around for something to wipe with and she said, ‘Leave ’em, they’ll dry.’

‘Where d’you get the water?’ I asked.

‘Raintank on the roof.’

‘But it doesn’t come through your taps?’

‘No. Folks’d waste it if it did. You gotta go up for it.’

‘Can I get some now?’

‘No. You heard Daz. You gotta stay out of sight, and anyway we’ve got our ration for today.’

‘That?’ I nodded at the bucket.

‘That for washing. This to drink.’ She opened a sliding door under the sink to reveal a second bucket, threequarters full. For some reason it reminded me I needed to go to the John. I mentioned it and she said ‘Well – I was beginning to think Subbies must’ve found a way to do without. Second door.’

Oh, you needn’t worry. I’m not going to dwell on it. If I tell you the Barracloughs have three plastic buckets in all, you’ve probably got the picture.

When I returned to the kitchen, she’d left it, and I was about to go back to the living room when I heard a familiar sound. I looked out the window, leaning across the sink to do it. There were high buildings all round so you couldn’t see much sky, but the noise grew and I saw a fan go over, low. I ducked back, though the window was so dirty I doubt a pigeon on the sill could’ve seen me. As the fan’s engine faded I heard a siren not far off and a minute later a copcar went by, travelling fast.

The old lady was back in her armchair. The pill must’ve been wearing off because she glowered at me as I came in the room.

‘Hear that?’ She nodded toward the street. ‘They’re looking for you, girl. If that boy don’t hurry you’re back in Silverdale and we’re dead.’

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I sat in the other chair and we stared at the stove, avoiding each other’s eyes.

wots the rottenest feeling?

scairt? no

hungry? no

cold? no

loanly? no

sick? no

ashamed ov yor mower, ashamed ov yor hoam. thats wot.

i tecka big chanse go up the school see Mister James. I disser pointim but he like me just the same. hes teeching. i wayt. braketyme he coms owt sez wot you doing hear Barraclough you xpelt. i com rite owt wiv it. you in FAIR Mister James i sez.

he goes wite. goes shush. lucks all rownd. howd you know that he sez. i larf. fings, i sez. fings you say fings you do. just then a fan coms over lo and he damnear fills his pants.

wot you want he sez. mebbe he finks i com 2 black male him or somfing.

want you 2 hyde some 1 i sez.

hide some 1 he sez. hoo.

girl i sez. Subby girl. name dont matter.

Subby girl he sez. i cant hyde no subby girl. thay catch me, i get kickowt Silverdale. Mister James liv in Silverdale come 2 town 5 daze a weak.

you wont get court i sez. lornoders wont luck in school cos you Subby.

thay mite he sez. thay know i’m sim pafetick.

if you sim pafetick i sez you hyde her. Mam and me get topt if you dont. i hear copcar syren, gotta get back.

okay he sez bring her after dark i do wot i can but i cant hyde her long. a day or 2 at moast. fanks Mister James i sez.

going hoam i seen abowt 6 copcars plus the fan. fan gotta speeka on it. lornorder tell frou the speeka how Subby girl missing. hare color. wot cloaths she got on. all lyke that. big reward 4 any 1 turn her in or giv informashun.

i go faster. You fink abowt gerrin topt, you go faster 2.

We must’ve sat the best part of an hour, listening. It’s amazing how sound travels. The guys in the fan kept moving from place to place, hovering to do their spiel about me. They got closer and closer till the tinny voice seemed to be directly over us, then moved off. I felt a little better as the noise receded, but no matter where they went we could still hear them, and of course we both realised that at this very moment somebody – one of the kids from last night – might be leading a bunch of cops here. When footfalls sounded on the stairs we tensed up and our eyes met across the cold stove, and when the outer door opened I half-rose ready to run, though I don’t know where I thought I’d run to.

It was Daz. He closed the room door and leaned against it, breathing hard.

‘They’re everywhere,’ he gasped. ‘In the sky, on the ground, underground for all I know. You’d think it was a king they were looking for.’

His mother looked at him. ‘Any in this building?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet. Couple of cars in the next street.’ He turned to me. ‘Come on – I know a place you can hide till they’ve gone.’

I followed him out of the room, out of the apartment and down the twilit stairs. ‘Daz,’ I whispered. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Basement,’ he said.

We passed the doorway we came in last night and went on down. It was totally dark and knee-deep in trash and it stank. Daz switched on a flashlight and led me toward an enormous old furnace. In the dark above it, pipes filled the ceiling space like spaghetti, but the air was cold and dank and I knew nobody had stoked this furnace in years. I knew what Daz had in mind too, and it crossed my mind that this wasn’t exactly the most original hiding place ever devised. In fact if I was a cop, it’d be one of the first places I’d look.