Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

Mr. Devlin has his hands on his hips.

“Listen, Burrows, it’s not my idea. It’s the rules. Your father has sublet the plot to you. Subletting is prohibited, as you know. There was some discussion and—”

“I said what the fuck is this?”

Tufty is shaking a piece of paper in Mr. Devlin’s face.

“It’s in the rules. However, if you’re unhappy, there is an appeal procedure.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t care what you think, Mr. Burrows. There was a committee meeting last night and—”

“Bullshit! What committee meeting? This is about them police the other day. You see me do anything? You see me start any argument? I did nothing. This isn’t about no fucking subletting. This is about racism, pure and simple.”

“Holy Mother, you’re ridiculous. I have nothing to gain by getting rid of you. This is between you and the committee. I have no dog in this fight.”

“This ain’t no fucking fight. And I ain’t no fucking dog. You’re just a foot soldier, man. You ain’t no general here. You don’t like it when you’re not in charge, do you? You go around cutting down bushes with your fucking knife. Who told you to cut down the bushes? You think this is the jungle or something? Tend your own fucking business, man.”

“General? I never claimed to be a general, you damn idiot.”

Tufty notices Leon then.

“Yeah? What you doing with that boy in there?”

“What did you say?”

Mr. Devlin stands up tall but he is still shorter than Tufty.

“You heard me. I seen them pictures you got in there. Little boys on your shelf.”

Tufty pulls Leon toward him.

“You don’t go in there, you hear me. Stay away from that man. He don’t like black people unless they’re under sixteen. Yeah?”

“How dare—”

But Tufty is towering over Mr. Devlin. He holds the paper up in the air and then flings it in Mr. Devlin’s face.

“My father’s been on this site for twenty years. How long you been here? Eh? How long? My father’s gone home for six months. Six months. I told you that. You know that. I’ve been coming here with my father since I was five years old. You think you can come here and tell me anything? He’s coming back when he’s good and ready and when he does, he will find everything just how he left it. You get me? You ain’t throwing me off this site. Don’t send no fucking Ku Klux Klan orders to my father’s house. Next time, I don’t play so nice. You get me?”

All the time Tufty is walking forward and Mr. Devlin is walking backward, right into his shed.

As soon as Mr. Devlin is gone, Leon goes and gets his bike. It will be hard to pedal with the weights on his back and with the gun in between them. He goes all along the path to his halfway house and tugs the door open. He lets it close gently, silently, but as soon as he puts the weights on the crooked table, both legs break off and the weights crash on the floor. Leon peers through the glass but there is no one nearby to hear. He takes the pistol from his backpack and holds it up to the light. It’s all black, shiny and smooth. It feels heavy in his hand and fits perfectly. He points it at the door. Poof.

It’s the fifth of July. Finally. Saturday. At last. Leon’s birthday. He wakes up early. Sylvia hasn’t even mentioned his presents or anything and every time he tries to say something about it, she’s talking on the phone or planning her street party for the Royal Wedding. He thinks about the Action Man that he got for his last birthday and his other Action Men that he had to leave behind. He had lots of outfits and different guns and they are all still at his old house where he used to live with Carol.

He gets out of bed and walks slowly along the hallway in his pajamas. Sylvia is standing at the back door with a cigarette. She turns around when she sees him.

“Here he is! Ten years old and nearly looking me in the eye. Bloody hell! You’ve grown overnight, haven’t you? Come here.”

She bundles him into her skinny arms and kisses him on the cheek. He can smell her body and her cigarettes.

“There’s a birthday kiss for you. I don’t give them away very often. Not these days.”

She opens a kitchen cupboard and takes out a little box wrapped in glittery paper.

“That’s from me, love,” she says. “And here’s your card.”

Then she opens the door to the cupboard where she keeps the vacuum and pulls a massive box out.

“And this is from Mo!”

Leon looks at his two presents.

“Can I open them now?”

“Go on then.”

The paper is hard to get off the little present because there is so much tape but inside is Darth Vader in a cardboard box. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo are good but Darth Vader is evil and Leon wonders if he will have a bad dream if Darth Vader is in his bedroom.

“Thank you, Sylvia.”

Sylvia pushes the other box over to him.

“Wait till you see what’s in this.”

There’s so much paper it takes ages, but he keeps going.

“It’s an AT-AT Walker!”

Sylvia helps him take the cardboard box off and all the little bits of wire that hold it in place and then Leon puts it on the carpet. Then he makes it walk up and down and moves its head and fires all the guns.

“Is it good, then?” asks Sylvia.

Leon is still playing with the AT-AT when Sylvia sits down next to him on the carpet.

“Ooh, that’s a long way down. Now,” she says, “here you are. You’ve been waiting on this and, between me and Maureen, we made sure you were going to have it on your birthday. So, here.”

She gives him a strong, brown envelope with his name typed on the front. It feels like there’s a card inside.

“Do you want me to open it for you?” Sylvia says. “Open it carefully.”

So he does. There’s a photograph inside. It’s Jake. He’s sitting up and he has a lot of blond hair just like Carol’s. He’s wearing a pale blue top with a velvet collar and a mini pair of jeans. He has no shoes on but his feet are much bigger than they used to be. He’s smiling and he has a lot more teeth. One arm is reaching out for Leon.

Jake is smiling but Leon can see he’s tired and he doesn’t like having his picture taken. Anyone can see that. Leon doesn’t want to turn the photograph over because he knows the address will be on the other side, so he just pretends he can’t stop looking at Jake, which is true anyway.

“There should be a letter in there as well.”

Leon puts the photograph down carefully by his AT-AT and takes the letter out. It isn’t written by a baby, it’s typed.

“What does it say?” says Sylvia.

“ ‘Dear Leon, I know it is your birthday so I have sent you a photograph of me. I am very happy living with my new mom and dad. I have got lots of toys and I like playing with cars and trucks. I have my own bedroom with pictures of bears on the wall and I go to nursery to play with my friends. I hope you are as happy as I am and hope you have lots of presents on your birthday. Lots of love from Jake. Three kisses.’ ”

“There you go!” says Sylvia and she strokes his back. “See? He’s very happy.”

She goes into the kitchen then and says he can have whatever he wants for his birthday breakfast. He can have chocolate cereal which she bought specially or he can have beans on toast with grated cheese or he can have biscuits with icing on or anything that’s in the cupboards because it’s his birthday and he can choose.

Leon has Choco Pops with Pepsi Cola and he opens all his birthday cards. One from Maureen, one from the Zebra, whose name is Judy, one from Beth, the other social worker who sometimes collects him from school, one from Sylvia, one from someone called Ian from-the-center-in-brackets and one from Sylvia’s friend, Sue. Sue’s card has a one-pound note in it. As soon as he opens the cards, Sylvia puts them on the sideboard.