Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

All Sylvia’s housework jobs last until lunchtime, when she makes him a sandwich and he can have his doughnut. But since he got his bike, Leon doesn’t want to watch his shows.

“Can I go out on my bike, please?”

He stands near the back door with his hand on the knob. He always takes his backpack because he shows Tufty the soccer cards he’s collecting or a picture of a bike because Tufty knows everything about them. He knows the way by heart now and he knows how to get off his bike at the gate if Mr. Devlin is around.

“Where?” she says, squinting because of the smoke from her cigarette.

“Just on the roads, on the sidewalks.”

“All right then. But only around the block. You go up to the lights and right and then right again and you come to the bottom of the hill. Show me which is right and which is left.”

He holds up the hand he writes with.

“Right,” he says.

“Okay then. Now you watch that traffic. And if you get lost you ask a policeman. Second thoughts, if you get lost, ask a lady, any lady. You give them this address and you tell them to show you the way.”

“Okay,” says Leon and he opens the door.

“Hold on. What is this address, Leon?” She tilts her head to one side, looking like a teacher.

“Ten College Road.”

Sylvia raises her eyebrows. “Off you go then. Back for your tea.”

He puts his pack on and wheels his bike through the entry between the houses and out onto the road. He goes up to the traffic lights, crosses over, along the busy road, and all the way to the allotments. He gets off his bike at the railings in case Mr. Devlin is there and wheels it along the path by Mr. Devlin’s brick shed and then, when he’s absolutely sure Mr. Devlin isn’t around, he gets back on so he can ride fast for thirty-seven seconds right up to Tufty’s wooden hut.

It’s a bright, bright day and because it’s been raining all the green looks greener and all the blue looks bluer. The bloodred flowers in Mr. and Mrs. Atwal’s garden have fallen over in the wind and beads of water drip from the cherry blossom onto Leon’s back as he speeds past. Tufty waves when he sees Leon and calls him over. He hands him a packet of seeds.

“I can’t read them little words, Star. Read this for me.”

He hands Leon the packet and folds his arms.

Leon reads slowly but nice and loud.

“ ‘Red-Flowered Runner Bean Scarlet Emperor is excellent for freezing and for showing. Runner beans are a good source of vitamin C and iron, and have a high fiber content. Height: ten feet. Spread: twelve inches.’ ”

“Hmm,” says Tufty. “What does it say about when you plant it?”

“It says, ‘Ideal for the kitchen garden. Flowering time July, August. Sowing months April, May indoors. Transplant outdoors when the risk of frost has passed, in full sun.’”

Tufty nods. “Okay, good.”

“Has the risk of frost passed?”

“Well,” says Tufty, “never can be sure. But it’s the sixteenth of May. Sunny and warm. And in my little shed, they’ll be safe. Yep, today’s the day.”

He goes back inside his hut and when he comes out the cycling pants are gone. Tufty’s wearing baggy shorts, a sweater, and dusty beige boots with no laces. He puts a knitted hat over his bald head.

“Come in,” he says to Leon. “You’ll learn something.”

Leon steps through the door and into Tufty’s shed. The hut still has its special smell, like the gardens but stronger and sweet. Even with the folded chairs, there is lots of room inside. There is a little paraffin heater, a stool, a cooking pot, and some metal plates and mugs. If there was a bed this could be a halfway house as well. But there is dust and dirt on everything and piles of earth on the floor; tendrils of plants push in from the outside. Leon takes his backpack off and looks carefully at the pictures on the wall. They are all posters of black men: one in a suit and tie with a mustache, one who looks like a king, and another one with his fist in the air and a medal around his neck. Leon looks at them all one by one. They are all serious, not like Tufty with his wide smile and big teeth. The men look down at Leon and he imagines how they might talk and what they might say and if any of them would help him find his brother. He reaches out and touches the man with the medal. The poster crinkles and the man’s chest contracts like he’s breathing. Underneath the man in big writing it says “Black Power.” Leon makes a fist and holds it up.

Tufty turns round and sees him.

“Yeah,” he says, “he was a brave man. Now, watch.”

Tufty rips the top off the packet of Scarlet Emperor seeds.

“Hold out your hands.”

Tufty tips five seeds onto Leon’s palms.

“Press one seed into each compartment. Like this. See?”

Leon presses the smooth, brown seeds down into the soil.

“Make sure it’s covered over with the compost. You have to put them to bed so they can wake up. Keep them warm.”

Leon carries on until all the compartments have one seed but there are still some left in the packet. Tufty folds the top over and puts them on a shelf. There are lots of other packets of seeds on the shelf and Leon takes one down. It has no writing on it.

“What are these?”

“These?” says Tufty, looking inside. He takes one seed out and holds it up to the light. He squints and shakes his head.

“Call them ‘Take-A-Chance.’ ”

“Take-A-Chance,” says Leon.

“Yeah, you plant them and water them but you don’t know what you’re getting. You just hope for the best.”

Tufty puts the seed back in the packet and hands it to Leon.

“Keep them.”

“Thank you,” says Leon. He folds the top of the seed packet over like he saw Tufty do and puts it in his pocket.

“Look, now,” says Tufty. “You got your seeds but you got to look after them. They got their blanket, they got food in their belly, but what else do they need?”

“Something to drink,” says Leon.

“Right!” says Tufty, slapping him on the back. “Yeah, man. You got it. You do gardening at home?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re a natural then. Right, water is what we need. See that? Take it and fill it up from the soda bucket.”

Leon fills a miniature watering can and dribbles water onto the seeds, drop by drop.

“Not too much,” says Tufty. “Good, good.”

“How big will they grow?” asks Leon.

“Taller than me and you,” says Tufty as he walks outside. “Work to be done. Watch yourself, Star,” he says. “Close the door after you.”

Leon sees a ten-pence piece by the seed tray. It’s got dirt on it and probably no one even knows it’s a ten pence. He grabs the coin and takes his Take-A-Chance seeds out of his pocket. He puts them both in his pack and goes back outside.

He sees Tufty pick up the big garden fork and plunge it into the earth. Leon watches for a long time. Tufty sings to himself as he breaks the soil and turns it over, throwing stones over by the hedge. It’s easy for Tufty because he’s got big muscles. Leon feels the top of his arm and wonders when his muscles will grow. Then Leon gets on his bike and rides carefully along the little paths. The Indian lady waves at him and he waves back. He goes right to the end of the allotments where there’s a tall wire fence and then he cycles on a different path toward the gate. He stops when he sees Mr. Devlin, gets off his bike, and wheels it over. Mr. Devlin is holding the Kanetsune again and wearing his army jacket.

Leon stares at it.

“Kanetsune,” says Mr. Devlin. “Remember? Japanese.”

Leon reaches for it but the man moves it out of the way.

“Too sharp. Dangerous for children.”

On a deck chair outside the door of his hut, there is an old wooden box with a lid. It is open and inside there are packets of seeds squashed up.