Nicola Barker - Small Holdings

Saleem’s eyes were as large and round as two plates spinning on the end of two sticks. ‘And then she just, kind of, shot him. In the foot. I think it was his foot because he staggered and jumped around on one leg for a while.

‘Nancy yanked down the tail of her truck and pushed him inside. I mean it took literally five seconds. Doug was still distracted and slightly off balance. Then she closed the back gate. Doug was locked in there. I tried to ask her what she thought she was doing but it all happened so quickly. She just said, “He won’t do this to us. He’s not going to bully us any more. I’m taking him away. I’m going to keep him locked in there until he sees sense. As long as it takes.” Then she jumped into her cab, started up the engine and drove off. And that was that.’

I stared at the window, the point just behind Saleem’s right shoulder. Drips of condensation were making patterns on its surface. I wondered what the patterns meant.

‘Say something.’

I shook my head. My wet head. I couldn’t believe Nancy would behave so stupidly. I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes. The drips on the window spelled the word muddy. I blinked. It was gone. I said, ‘Nancy wouldn’t do something as stupid as that.’

‘But you would say that, wouldn’t you?’

‘What?’

Saleem’s lips were thin and white. ‘Yeah. You know what I mean.’

She had lost me, finally.

‘Saleem, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She leaned her elbows on the table. Her small breasts were squeezed together between her arms. ‘Say that again, go on.’

‘Say what?’

‘My name.’

Saleem. Saleem. I couldn’t say it. When I said her name it felt like a mouthful of unripe elderberries. On my palate. In my throat.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘I just don’t understand why Nancy. . I need to have it explained again.’

Saleem started to smile. She was a different person, suddenly. She cocked her head to one side. ‘I’ve been giving this some thought,’ she said, ‘and I don’t think it’s really a question of understanding, but more an issue of. . of managing.’

‘How?‘

‘Because it isn’t such a bad thing that Doug’s out of harm’s way for a while. If Nancy keeps him until Friday then you can go to the meeting and everything can take its course after that. Once we’re secure. The rest doesn’t matter.’

‘But what about Nancy?’

Saleem shrugged. ‘She’ll cope.’

‘And Doug?’

‘He’ll be fine. He just needs a little time away from this place. A little distance.’

‘I can’t go to the meeting.’ I nearly choked saying it. Just saying it was bad enough.

‘You have to.’

‘I couldn’t do it. Doug handles that kind of thing. That’s the whole point of him.’

‘Let me put it this way, ‘ Saleem said, grinning, ‘either you go to the meeting or I’m going to call the police and tell them what I’ve told you and that will fuck up Nancy very badly indeed. And after I fuck up Nancy I’m going to think of a way to fuck you up.’

‘Nancy’s in trouble no matter what you do.’

‘Who’s in trouble?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nancy. Nancy. Whenever you say her stupid name your cheeks go red.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘That’s fighting talk.’

‘It’s not.’

‘You’re making me angry, Phil.’

‘I’m not. I’m only trying to understand what’s gong on.’

‘Some hope, lard-arse.’ Saleem jumped up, tossed the paper over towards me, grinned, and scuttled out.

I stared down at the paper. Outlined in blue ink, two headlines. My eyes turned immediately to the second headline. The second headline said: 1OO-DAY PROTEST.

I read it again, re-acquainted myself with the story of how Mr Peter Hawes had locked himself inside his roadside café. As a protest. Surely it was different though, I decided, surely it was very different to lock yourself. Locking yourself was quite the opposite of being locked, forcibly.

I tried to picture Doug, being locked, in my mind, but I couldn’t picture it. Doug. Where was he? I couldn’t picture him. Not at all. Where was he? Doug? Where was he? Suddenly my brain was empty. I knew it, then. Doug was gone. Yes, Doug was lost. Lost.

I found Ray in the greenhouse. ‘Ray,’ I said, ‘things are a mess.’

‘Let’s go sit on the bench.’

It was Ray’s favourite bench, under a yellow laburnum. We sat down.

‘OK,’ Ray said, ‘what needs to be done?’ He plucked a couple of seeds from the branches overhead and cracked them open.

‘Leave those alone, Ray. They’re poisonous.’

He dropped the seeds and wiped his hands on his overalls. I stared at him for a moment. I wondered what kinds of things were going on in his head. I said, ‘So you know about Nancy and Doug?’ Ray inspected his fingernails. ‘Then why didn’t you tell me earlier?’

Ray’s jowls descended. He scratched his nose. He said, ‘This never would’ve happened if it wasn’t for Nancy’s eye.’

‘Nancy’s eye?’

Ray nodded. ‘She lost the use of it in a motorcross accident. Before Christmas. Her right eye. That’s why she keeps having accidents. She thinks if she loses this job she won’t ever work again. I kind of knew for a while but I hoped it’d sort itself out. I mean, she was desperate, you know?’

Things were shifting. Shifting and moving. ‘Ray,’ I said, almost cracking, almost splitting like the laburnum pod between his podgy fingers. ‘Ray,’ I said, ‘don’t tell me anything else. Let’s just concentrate on these three things. One, we need to find Doug. Two, we need to sort things out between Doug and Nancy. Three, we need to make sure that the meeting on Friday passes off all right.’

‘And the Chinaman?’

I blinked. ‘Best leave him well alone.’

‘And Saleem?’

‘Saleem?’ I almost choked. Ray leaned back, locked his hands over his belly. The bench creaked.

And I looked at Ray, and I looked at my shirt, and I looked at my hands and I looked at my feet. And I looked up. This park. This park was my place and now it had been stolen.

This park, even yesterday, was only soil and plants and weather. A sum of its simple constituent parts. Now it was people and thoughts and concoction. It had been violated. Or else, like Saleem had said, there are events and then there are interpretations of events. I was removed. I was always removed. The park was never mine after all. I was in my head and I was out of it.

I had been plucked like a weed.

MY FOOT WAS SORE but I was walking anyway. I needed to re-acquaint myself. Re-acquaint myself. To look. To touch. To reaffirm how it was that I felt about this place. To get it back. I should have talked to Ray, I should have seen what Ray had to say, but I just didn’t, I just couldn’t.

This is a physical world. Everything’s out there and you can touch it if you want to. You can touch it if you doubt it. Just stretch out your hands and your fingers.

I was walking around the park’s perimeter. I was going to feel and identify every single object and particle that I had contributed to this place. I was going to see myself, my face and features in every cowering flower, in every bird and every bud.

In the scented garden where I’d planted the pinks and the jasmine, I swung out my arm and rubbed my hand into lavender. I pinched some mint between my thumb and forefinger, then dabbed my finger on to my tongue. I could taste this place. I could touch it. I could smell this place. I could see it.

I kept on walking. Through the wild part where the squirrels dart. Through the adventure playground where the children run and bound and kid around.