Jenni Fagan - The Panopticon

‘JOAN, I DINNAE like boats.’

She’s not listening. I’ve said it like ten times, but she’s not having any of it.

‘You will like this one.’

‘I’ll fucking hate it, I’m not going.’

‘Your social worker signed you up, Anais.’

‘This isnae how I intend tae spend my weekend.’

‘Tough titties.’

‘You cannae say that!’ I look at her, appalled.

‘I just did, and you are going, even if we have tae gaffer-tape your hands and wrists and throw you in. You’re going. And you’ll like it.’

Something is up with Joan. I heard that someone she knows is dying. Like cancer or something. She’s been snappy lately.

‘Is it a canoe?’ I ask her.

‘No, it’s a boat. You will be in with Tash, Shortie and Isla. You just have paddles and you go around and have fun. You know, like normal people?’

‘I’m not normal people.’

‘So, enjoy it as someone who is not normal. Just have some fun!’

‘It isnae a canoe?’

‘It’s nothing like a canoe. Now go and get some jeans on, and wear a jumper and a jacket because it might rain.’

Joan jangles the minibus keys; her key-ring is a little monkey with eyes that light up. I cannae believe I have to go to some loch in the middle of fuck-knows-where and float. On a boat. I dinnae like boats. I’m with vampires — they never travel by boat, not unless there is a special hold for them tae sleep in when the sun comes up.

‘Is their a hold underneath the boat?’ I ask Joan.

‘It’s a boat, Anais, not a fucking yacht.’ She mutters the last bit as she goes back into the office. Cheeky bitch. She sticks her head out of the office door and watches me trailing towards the stairs. I sit down on the bottom one.

‘I hate boats.’

‘Don’t be a scaredy-cat, Anais. Now, Helen is coming tae take you tae Warrender Institute, to meet Mr Jamieson as arranged — did she tell you?’

‘Aye. Can you give me money for cigarettes?’

‘If you go and get dressed, Anais, and get into the minibus, then yes, there will be some outing money allocated.’

Joan’s not stupid. If she gives me cash now, I’ll be away. She’s getting quite cunning. I’m impressed.

‘What did they say about my lab-test results?’ I ask her.

‘The blood was not PC Craig’s blood. Did Angus not tell you?’

‘No. Does that mean they know I didnae do it?’

‘No, it just means they are now looking for other proof. Do you know whose blood was on your skirt?’

‘It was a dead squirrel, I found it down the woods.’

‘Did you hurt a squirrel?’ she asks slowly.

‘Aye, Joan, I koshed a fucking squirrel, ay. Hate the cunts.’

‘Dinnae use that word, Anais, it’s demeaning tae women.’

‘Get a grip. Can you just ask them tae check if the blood on my skirt was human?’

‘I’ll ask, although I’m not sure they will do that, unless you give them a good reason tae do so. We can talk about it later, now hurry, please, we need tae leave in ten minutes!’

Angus breezes in. ‘Morning, Anais, Joan.’

‘Morning, Angus,’ I say.

Tash is pleating Isla’s hair. Brian’s sat in front, John is in the back with a cap pulled down over his face. Dylan and Steven are huddled together in the middle. I am standing at the minibus door, smoking a roll-up I cadged off Angus. Double-drag, until I get dizzy.

‘Morning, campers, it’s going to be a good one!’ Angus climbs up intae the front.

‘Move,’ Tash says to Brian. He scurries to the back and sits two seats behind Dylan. Tash and Isla sit together at the front double-seat, holding hands. Shortie runs out and jumps in.

‘I cannae wait,’ she says, ‘out of this shit-pit for a day!’

Eric is stood at the door like an anxious dad watching his kids go off to school.

‘Bye, Anais, have a nice time!’ he calls.

I climb in and slam the door.

‘Leave it on its hinges, please, Anais,’ Joan admonishes and she starts the engine. Shortie slides over and I sit down next to her. She grins happily.

Eric waves at us and wee Dylan sticks his fingers up at him as the minibus pulls away. Joan turns the radio on and everyone opens their windows and pulls their fags out. You urnay meant to smoke in social-work property any more, but Joan’s quite good like that. She chain-smokes like fuck.

‘Can I have one of yours?’

Shortie grins at me. ‘Uh-huh!’

‘How many miles is it, Joan?’ Isla asks.

‘It’s eighty miles away.’

‘That’ll take all fucking day. Can you do a ton in this?’ John asks, still under his hat.

‘Can we ditch Boner Brian?’ Dylan pitches up.

‘We won’t have name-calling today,’ Joan scolds. ‘And you and Brian and young Steven will be in a boat with John today. We are looking for teamwork.’

‘Seriously, we should just kick him out the back when we hit the motorway,’ Dylan mutters.

‘Have you got a boner, Brian?’ Steven asks Brian quietly, and then sniggers.

‘He’ll probably rape a fish in the loch,’ Dylan says.

‘D’ye reckon this claptrap could reach eighty?’ John asks, but the staff are pretending not to listen now.

‘Can you swim?’ Steven asks Brian.

‘Who are you gonnae go in a boat with?’ Shortie pops her head into the front and asks the staff.

‘Seatbelt, please, Shona. Angus and I are there strictly tae supervise. We are trusting you all tae behave yourselves and not let us down today.’

‘It’s Shortie, not fucking Shona.’

‘You all have tae be on best behaviour,’ Angus says.

‘Right then,’ John snorts.

‘This will be great, we will fucking tank youz cunts,’ Shortie says to the boys.

She opens her fist. It’s full of green and blue tablets. Nice. Wee Dylan is looking over and nodding at the new boy, Steven. He watches wide-eyed as I pick out three green tablets and swallow them. His mum’s in remission. I hope she gets better and he gets the fuck out of here.

Shortie smiles and closes her fist. I shake my head and tap her hand, so she opens it again. Take three blue as well, just to be safe. She smiles, looking out the window. She’s content to just be here with Tash and Isla and me — everything feels chilled.

‘Are you okay, Anais?’ Angus asks, turning around to look at us all in the back.

‘She’s fine,’ Shortie says.

We turn onto the motorway and the minibus jams in behind a lorry. A school bus overtakes us on the right. Kids are up at the window, making faces at us and sticking their fingers up. Wee Dylan sits up on his seat, pulls down his shorts and flashes them, quick as. Kids on the school bus all fall about in hysterics, then they start to flash back.

‘What the fuck’s that?’ Shortie shouts at them, she shouts it so loud they can probably fucking hear her. She’s holding up her fingers like she’s trying to find a wee maggot with tweezers.

‘And they say our lot are bad!’ Joan shakes her head at the kids on the bus.

One of them rubs his jumper over his nipples, then he makes out like he’s wanking over Joan. She smiles and gives him a wee Aw, how sweet wave.

The bus pulls away and, on the back of it, someone has drawn a huge dick and hairy balls in the dirt.

‘Catch up with them,’ Dylan shouts.

‘We urnay in a race,’ Angus says.

Joan hands back some boiled sweeties. Isla rests her head on Tash’s shoulder, and Tash strokes her hair. The sky is blue outside and the countryside is green. It whizzes by and I could just drive around like this every day. Watching the green. Watching the whizz. The blues and greens are lush. Shortie opens her window right up and shouts up at a lorry driver.