Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

Mr. Devlin sounds like he’s on the telephone, like someone is answering back. He looks at Leon suddenly and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“He had so much energy, just like me when I was a boy. Never still, never could sit still. Running full pelt. She never caught him.”

Then Mr. Devlin goes to his halfway house and comes back with a battered khaki watering can and a plastic bottle. When he speaks, he sounds like a child.

“Would you help me with this, please? I’d be grateful if you would help me. Grateful.”

They water the seeds together like Tufty showed him. Mr. Devlin has stopped talking. Leon looks at him as he waters his plants but his face is sad and his lips are thin.

“I have to go now,” says Leon but Mr. Devlin doesn’t even say goodbye. He slumps and trudges back to his shed, weaving from side to side, and Leon thinks he looks much older than usual.

There is music coming from somewhere, reggae music. Tufty must have a radio but when he gets to Tufty’s plot he’s nowhere to be seen and it’s all gone quiet. Leon opens the shed door. Tufty’s inside with a massive, massive, massive silver tape recorder. It’s wider than Tufty’s chest, with two round speakers on the front with dials and buttons and everything. Tufty’s got a packet of batteries in his hand and he’s taken the back off the machine.

“Wow!” says Leon. “What’s that?”

“Boom box,” says Tufty. “Panasonic 180 Ghetto Blaster.”

“Is it yours?”

“Don’t even ask what it cost. I can’t afford it, you know.”

“How much was it?”

“Take all your pocket money and multiply it by your age. I brought it up here to have some music while I’m working and the batteries just died. At least, I hope it’s the batteries. The one time I bring this out of the house and look what happens. Anyhow, this thing breaks, it’s going straight back to the shop.”

Tufty clicks eight enormous batteries into place and fixes a plastic plate over them. He sits it up on the bench.

“Let’s see. Cross your fingers.”

Leon crosses all of his fingers and holds them up for Tufty to see. Click. Doooouuufff. Doooouuufff. The bass hits Leon like a train.

“Yeah, man!” shouts Tufty. “Feel that?”

Leon puts his hands over his chest and starts giggling.

“King Tubby, Star. You can’t get better than King Tubby’s dub.”

Tufty turns the knob at the front and the bass, heavy as concrete, makes the whole shed shudder. Douff, douff, douff. Douff, douff, douff.

Tufty nods in time with the music and closes his eyes. He drops back, rolls forward, drops back, rolls forward, nods in time with the music, drops back. He’s lost in it and Leon feels it, too. He feels a warm current of sound start in his belly and climb up into his neck. He starts to nod and sway and when he closes his eyes he feels it stronger, feels his arms rise up all on their own and his feet start shuffling on the wooden floor.

Douff, douff, douff. Douff, douff, douff.

There’s no change in the music, just the cludding of the bass, on and on, over and over like the hammer of his heartbeat.

Douff, douff, douff.

When he opens his eyes, Tufty is standing with his arms folded, one hand hiding his wide smile.

“Yes, sir! You feel it! You really feel it! That’s what righteous dub can do to you. Where did you go, eh? You went somewhere?”

Leon nods.

“Good?”

“Yes.”

Tufty claps and laughs.

“Me and you, Star, in a good place. Yes! Come, I got more tunes for you.”

Tufty plays Leon lots of different songs and tells him all the different singers: King Tubby, Bob Marley, Dennis Brown, Burning Spear, Barrington Levy. All the names merge into one sound.

Douff, douff, douff. Black Pow-er. Douff, douff, douff. Black Pow-er.

When Leon gets back on his bike, he thinks about Jake and where he is and what he’s doing and how he can find him. He thinks about Jake banging his baby drum in time to Tufty’s music. Leon puts his feet on the pedals and his legs push down on the beat. Douff, douff, douff , all the way home.

Because the journey to the Family Center takes so long, Leon has to listen to the news twice. When the Zebra came he thought he was getting another present like the bike because she said she had a surprise for him. But it was much better than a bike. His mom has come back. He runs and gets his backpack and sits in the back of the car right away but then the Zebra stands at the door talking to Sylvia for ages. Leon rolls down the window so he can hear.

The Zebra talks about Maureen first.

“She’s going to need to take it steady when she comes out.”

“It’s her weight as much as anything else.”

“One of our best carers but I’m not sure she would be up to caring for another energetic boy like this one.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But she’s so committed. Wish we had more like her.”

“I’ll be having words with her when she gets out, I can tell you.”

“Leon misses her, doesn’t he?”

“So do I.”

“We’re looking at a permanent plan for Leon. Long-term fostering is the best option obviously but those placements are not easy to find. Matching considerations come into play and various other factors…”

Sylvia starts talking about the Royal Wedding.

“Wonder what her dress will be like?”

“I’m not a royalist by any stretch of the imagination but I thought at least we’d get the day off.”

“Disgraceful,” says Sylvia and takes a little step back inside.

The Zebra leans in.

“Think about how much they’ve spent on it. All the pomp and excess. It’s a showcase for the monarchy, a festivity, with all the heads of Europe being flown in. Who do you think is paying for that?”

“They’ve probably got their own planes.”

“Then there’s the hotels, the cars, the wedding breakfast.”

“We’re having a street party,” says Sylvia with her hand on the door.

The Zebra gets her keys out of her pocket and jangles them up and down.

“Pretty girl, but I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.”

“No?”

Sylvia waves at Leon, “Be good,” then she twitches her face into a smile. “See you later.”

On the Zebra’s car radio, it’s the same. The wedding and then the riots and the Irishman who starved himself to death, then the pope who got shot and then so much stuff that Leon just looks out of the window and imagines a plane flying in from Europe filled with all the heads of Europe. All the heads are bobbing around or falling off the seats like heavy balloons. Some of them are French and some of them are Spanish but no one can tell until they start talking in their own language. Leon starts to laugh and the Zebra sees.

“Looking forward to seeing your mom, Leon?”

“Yes.”

“I’m pleased for you, love. It’s an important day. You’ve waited a long time. It’s quite a few months since you last saw her, isn’t it?”

She pulls into the Family Center lot and turns off the engine. She shuffles round in her seat until she’s facing him.

“Now, last time when your mom went to see you at Maureen’s it wasn’t a great success, so that’s why we’re here.”

Leon nods.

“And things have got a bit out of hand recently, haven’t they, Leon?”

Leon says nothing.

“Lying? Answering back at school? Taking things belonging to Sylvia?”

Leon looks at her.

“She notices, Leon.”

He looks out of the window and the Zebra waits until he looks back.

“We need to take this one step at a time, all right? We want you to be happy, Leon. Honestly, we do, but it means you have to try to behave. Remember when I took you to see Maureen, you made me a promise? You remember your promise, don’t you?”