Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

“What are all those things?” Leon asks.

“They are things that belong to me,” Mr. Devlin says and holds the door open wide.

“Is that a real gun?”

But Mr. Devlin doesn’t answer. Leon wheels his bike all the way home because he still doesn’t feel well, but there are things in Mr. Devlin’s shed that he wants to see again.

Leon has swollen glands, so he has to miss a whole week of school. Sylvia says he has to tidy his room properly and help her take the weeds out of the front garden. He has to clean his school shoes. He has to help her rearrange the airing cupboard. He has to sweep the path and finally he has to go to the supermarket to help her carry some of the stuff for her street party. She buys lots of tins of salmon and bottles of juice and the bags are so heavy they cut into Leon’s fingers.

Sylvia pulls a cart that is full to the top with tea bags and jars of coffee, bags of sugar and trifle mix.

“We’re starting early. A little bit here and there and, on the day, we won’t have so much to get. It’s only six weeks now.”

But Leon just wants to go to the allotments, go to his shed, and make it nice. Get it ready. He has taken a tea towel from Sylvia’s kitchen and a little hand broom from under the sink. He has got some tape for the hole in the window and lots of other things. And he needs to get a padlock, because Mr. Devlin has a padlock and Tufty has a padlock and they do things properly. So after he has done all his jobs, he puts his backpack on and goes to the front door.

“Oi,” says Sylvia. “Where you going?”

“On my bike.”

“Where on your bike?”

“The big gardens.”

“You mean the park?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, “the park with the railings.”

She looks at him for a while, then she lights a cigarette.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing.”

“Like what? Give me an example of ‘nothing,’ Leon.”

“Like a ball in case I see any of my friends.”

“Two hours,” she says and he races out the door.

It rained in the morning and it rained the day before so the road is slippery and black. He gets off his bike at the allotment gates in case Mr. Devlin is there and wheels it in. Mr. Devlin is kneeling down with a trowel. He raises it as Leon goes by. Tufty is standing with Castro with the ginger hair but as he waves at Leon his face changes. Leon looks behind. A group of men are walking into the allotment behind Leon. They haven’t come to look at the plants and they’re not wearing the right clothes for gardening. They have their hands in their pockets and one of them is kicking stones. They walk straight toward him and they look angry. Leon knows that they have come to take him away for stealing.

The Zebra warned him. Sylvia must have complained to her. He thinks about all the things he has stolen and what he will say. He tries to think of clever answers but all the time he wants to go to the toilet and he can’t move. Sylvia has sent them to lock him up. The men are close now. Leon drops his bike. People are staring at the men, Mr. and Mrs. Atwal and Mr. Devlin and everybody working at the allotments, because they aren’t keeping to the path and some of them are walking on people’s plants.

Leon takes his pack off and holds it in front of him. He’ll say sorry and give everything back. He feels the pain in his chest again and wishes he was the Incredible Hulk and he could fight them all and run away. But the men walk straight past him and surround Castro and Tufty.

One of them is the leader. He has a leather jacket and a thin mustache with a leather belt under his belly. He’s smiling at Tufty.

“Linwood Michael Burrows? Long time no see. Never took you for a Percy Thrower.”

Three of the other men have gone into the shed and Leon can hear things being thrown around. The whole shed seems to be moving. Another man is walking around, treading on things and kicking stones.

“And Earl Parchment, aka Castro. Either of you two fancy helping us with our inquiries, to coin a phrase?”

Tufty says nothing but Leon watches him move his feet apart. He sees Tufty make his lips small like he’s trying not to let the words out and Leon knows exactly how he feels. Castro opens his arms wide.

“You blood-clat, Babylon! You beast boys can’t come in here for we. You don’t have nothing on we.”

“Sorry?” says the man. “Didn’t catch that.” He takes a step back and looks around. All the people in the allotment are looking over.

“DC Ronald Green, Springfield Road police station, folks,” he shouts. “Nothing to worry about. A driving matter.”

The other policemen start to laugh and DC Green puts his finger to his lips and says, “Sssshhhh.

“Now,” he continues, “it so happens, I’m not looking for either of you this time. Where’s Rainbow? That’s what I want to know. He’s your mate, isn’t he? Your ‘brethren,’ your ‘spar,’ your ‘idrin.’ That’s the lingo, isn’t it? And as for you, Castro, my little carrot head”—he pushes Castro in the chest—“don’t come with any of your blood-clat bullshit here. I don’t like it.”

Tufty holds Castro’s arm. “Leave it, Castro, man. Leave it.”

“Yeah,” says the policeman. “Listen to your reasonable friend. He likes the quiet life, just like his old dad. Does as he’s told. Don’t you, Tufty? Always just a bystander, aren’t you? Perhaps your balls haven’t dropped yet, is that it?” DC Green pretends to shudder. “That’s an image I don’t care to dwell on. Anyway, as I was saying, we’re looking for Rainbow. Or, as we know him, that shit-stirring windbag with the tea cozy on his head, Darius White. Where is he?”

There are five policemen in all. Leon counts them but none of them are wearing police uniforms like the lady who gave him the doughnut when Maureen was taken to the hospital.

“He’s done nothing,” says Tufty.

“Oh? That’s not what I hear. There was a disturbance on Carpenter Road a few nights back, incited, I do believe, by the ever-eloquent Rainbow. We heard he was leading a pack of you all right down the middle of the road, chanting and spear-chucking and war-dancing. He was shouting something. What was it now?”

DC Green looks around at the other policemen.

“Down Babylon,” one of them says and they all laugh again but it’s not real laughing.

“That’s it! Down Babylon. Yes, he had posters and placards and everything. Learned to write at Her Majesty’s pleasure, so I understand.”

Castro spits on the ground.

“Yeah, Rainbow speaks for all of we.”

“Then you were there, eh, Castro?”

They surround Tufty and Castro until Leon can’t see them anymore but he can hear Castro shouting in fast West Indian. Mr. Devlin is standing close. He beckons Leon toward him, so he runs over and Mr. Devlin rests his hand on his shoulder. Then the fighting breaks out. Leon’s glad that he’s standing by Mr. Devlin because of the Kanetsune. He’s seen Mr. Devlin using it and, although he doesn’t look strong, Leon knows that he really is and he could chop down people just like he chops down bushes and trees. Three of the policemen grab Castro; he starts to buck and struggle but he can’t get free. DC Green stands back and shoos everybody away.

“Resisting arrest. Nothing to see. Off you go. Off you go.”

It takes four police officers to drag Castro out of the allotments. He’s shouting and fighting and twisting his body. One of the policemen has his arm locked round Castro’s neck and Castro’s trying to pull it off. Spit comes out of Castro’s mouth like he’s a wild dog. One of his shoes comes off. His jeans are pulled down to his ankles and DC Green is smiling all the time and tightening the belt on his trousers.