The Bombs That Brought Us Together (3 page)

Once the place was fully cleared we stood at the doorway gazing at the empty shell we’d created. What Pav had created. A blank canvas of possibilities. I high-fived Pav, who reached up to meet my hand. Slap! His pits were sweaty and pungent. Humming in fact. I tried not to breathe through my nose too much, as the mix of Pav’s body ming and stale shed was eye-watering stuff.

‘We need lock,’ Pav said.

‘First thing we need to do, Pav, is keep this door open and let some air circulate.’

‘Best idea for to get smell out. I agree, Charlie.’

‘It’s a shame there’s no electricity.’

‘No worry. We use fire and battery.’

‘You mean candles?’

‘Yes, fire candles.’

‘I can probably get my hands on some candles,’ I said.

Every house had stashes of candles for when the electricity was clicked off. I always thought that owning a small candle shop in Little Town would bring me untold riches, but standing in a candle shop day after day would’ve melted my mind.

‘Must first get lock to thief stop,’ Pav said.

‘We don’t have anything worth stealing yet.’

‘When stuff come thief will too.’

‘Not necessarily, Pav.’

‘In Old Country you know what they do to thief?’ Pav said, all serious and tense.

‘I’ve heard rumours, but I’m not sure if they’re true or not.’

‘It true, Charlie. It true.’

‘So they actually do … do … that … then?’ I turned my right hand into an axe or a butcher’s knife and made a chopping motion on my left wrist. Bringing the hack down twice.

‘It true. I see happen.’

‘Really?’

‘They come to school, bring teacher outside and do this.’ Pav did the same chopping motion as I had.

My mouth was wide and circular.

‘What did the teacher do?’ I asked.

‘They say he money thief.’

‘Bugger me,’ I said, which made Pav laugh. I’m not big into the swearing game, but whenever I swore Pav found it hilarious. This conversation badly needed a swear word. ‘And was he guilty?’

Pav shrugged his shoulders.

I was going to say another swear, but I said it inside instead, only much harder this time. A real bad one. A belter of a swear word. One that Mum and Dad would have skelped me for if I ever said it out loud.

‘And his hand? Did they just leave it lying there on the ground?’

‘They bag hand.’

‘Was there lots of blood?’

‘Like splashing pool.’

‘And your teacher, Pav, what happened to him?’

He shrugged his shoulders again.

‘God, and I thought
here
was bad.’

‘What happen to Little Town thief?’ Pav asked.

‘Depends who catches you. If it’s the Regime you’ll go to prison or get a huge fine. But if any of the Rascal gang members nab you, well, you might lose a kneecap or they’ll force you to work for them. Not sure what’s worse.’

‘Fook saking,’ Pav said.

‘So, best not to steal anything.’

‘I think yes I agree.’

‘Not even as much as a grain of sand,’ I said, sounding as if I was warning Pav, educating him on Little Town rules. Someone had to.

‘Why thief want sand, Charlie?’

‘No, Pav, it’s an expression …’

‘Ah, I yank your chain. I yank good.’

Pav’s thin belly and skeleton shoulders bobbed up and down with all his giggling.

It was time to explain to Pav the rules of Little Town. We sat at the doorway and I carefully went through Charlie Law’s Ten Laws of Little Town for him.

*

‘Norman, this is Pav,’ I said.

‘All right, Pav,’ Norman said.

‘Pav, this is Norman.’

‘Please to meet,’ said Pav.

Pav came closer and extended his hand. Norman took it.

‘You the friend good of Charlie?’ Pav said.

Norman looked at me.

‘Pav and his family just moved here from Old Country,’ I said.

‘Old Country?’ Norman said. His eyes opened further, forcing his eyebrows to shift skywards.

‘So they don’t speak the lingo too well,’ I said.

‘Oh, OK,’ Norman said. ‘I dig that.’

‘Not yet anyway,’ I said. ‘I’m going to teach the life out of him before we go back to school.’

‘Oh, brilliant! Can I come? Can I? Can I? Please?’ Norman’s mocking tone made me want to rip out his tongue. He didn’t mean it of course; he liked playing the joker, as he did all the time in school, in the street, at home, everywhere. Norman liked to call himself
a man about town
, which meant he knew stuff that we didn’t.
Stuff in the subterranean, my friend, stuff in the subterranean.
He knew some of Little Town’s Rascals, who could get their hands on things ordinary people couldn’t; these men did the dirty work, got down to the nitty-gritty, took the flack but were given the slack. Norman wasn’t as stupid as many people thought, oh no; a proper clever devil,
in fact. He just couldn’t be bothered with school. He always knew things that most of us struggled with, stuff like history and religion and philosophy, just didn’t go on about it much. Norman got all his information from books, which meant that he couldn’t have been the scallywag Dad thought he was. But the fact that Norman happened to know some proper bona-fide scallywags who lived in Little Town was exactly the reason I wanted to speak to him. That’s why I’d invited him to our pre-shed meeting.

But if I’d known what this would all lead to, I’d have never have got involved with Norman.

‘So, Old Country, eh? Is it as mental as everyone says it is?’ Norman asked Pav.

‘It very bad place.’

‘Did those bastards chase you out?’ Norman probed.

‘We come Little Town for bester life,’ Pav said. I didn’t want to tell Norman too much about why Pav and his family were in Little Town; it wasn’t my place to open my trap about the family secrets. Anyway, Pav had told me as a trusted friend and, as a trusted friend, I will take whatever secrets are told to me to the grave. I knew Pav wouldn’t have said anything to Norman.

‘What? You came
here
for a better life?’ Norman said.

‘Yes.’

‘Jesus! Was this the only place you could have come to?’ Norman asked.

‘Only place we get papers for. Only place Dad get job.’

‘What does the old fella do?’

Pav looked at me.

‘Norman wants to know what your father does here for work, Pav?’ I said.

‘He work at hospital,’ Pav said to Norman.

‘Is he a doctor?’ Norman said, as if impressed.

‘He floor and wall clean,’ Pav said.

‘Shit. All the way to this shit town to do some shit job in a shit hospital. Cleaning people’s shit all day. No thanks.’

‘He no floor clean in Old Country.’

‘Pav’s dad had a good job there,’ I said to Norman.

‘Let me guess, Pav. Your old man worked in a shirt and tie job in Old Country?’ Norman was practically in his face. Kissing distance.

‘He was scientist,’ Pav proudly said. ‘He working for big company, but we must to come Little Town when Government –’

‘Gave them permission to go,’ I said, stopping Pav in his tracks.

‘So, Charlie, you wanted to show me something?’ Norman said without taking his eyes off Pav.

‘I did; it’s down at the end of the garden.’

Pav went first and I led Norman to the bottom of the backyard. I opened the door and we all looked inside the empty shed. Norman entered; standing bang in the middle, he did a three-sixty. I sort of knew what he’d say.

‘What’s this ming heap, Charlie?’

I should have been a betting man.

‘It is
now
, Norman, but it won’t always be; that’s why I wanted to talk to you,’ I said.

‘Talk. I’m listening.’

‘Well, as you can see, it’s bare. Barren.’

‘You mean it’s got sweet FA in it?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So where do I fit in?’

‘We need three chairs.’

‘Three chairs?’

‘And a lock.’

‘Three chairs and a lock?’

‘And maybe a table.’

Norman stopped craning his neck around; he fixed on me.

‘Do I look like a furniture shop to you, Charlie?’

‘Oh, come on, Norman, you know some people who can get this stuff no bother.’

‘Oh, do I now?’

‘We both know you do.’

‘And what people would that be then?’

‘Well, there’s those … those … erm … subterranean people.’ I felt that it wasn’t the time to mention The Big Man at this stage. I didn’t want to scare Norman away.

He paused.

‘Do you have any dosh?’

‘No one has any dosh, Norman. You know that.’ That wasn’t quite true; some of those Rascals had plenty of dosh. They were rolling in it. ‘It’s just a tiny problem.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. I’d say it’s a massive problem,’ Norman said.

‘I was thinking of negotiating some manual labour or an I-scratch-your-back-you-scratch-mine type of arrangement.’

‘Not really how things are done these days, Charlie.’

‘Come on, Norman, is there nothing you can do? Not even with your contacts?’

‘Please, Norman,’ Pav said.

Norman looked at Pav. I could see his face soften. At least I think it did.

‘What’s in it for me?’ Norman said.

‘Well, for starters you can come around here anytime you want; it can be a three-way den instead of just for me and Pav.’

‘But I don’t live near this block, Charlie.’

‘We won’t say anything.’

‘But if the Regime catch me in another block when it’s dark, I’m buggered. You know that.’

‘They won’t.’

‘Want a bet?’

And he was right: he
would have
been buggered and I couldn’t say for sure that he’d be OK and that they wouldn’t catch him. They haven’t been here for ages, but that’s not to say the night beat aren’t due a mooch around here soon.

An idea came to me.

‘I’ll do all your homework for a month?’

This was like my sucker punch. My up-the-sleeve ace. Norman’s brain was spinning in his head.

‘Until Christmas,’ Norman said.

‘For two months,’ I said.

‘Until Christmas, or nothing,’ he said.

‘OK, until Christmas.’ My head was twisting at my rubbish negotiating skills.

‘Right, I’ll see what I can do,’ Norman said.

‘Fantastic time,’ Pav said.

‘I can’t promise anything,’ Norman said.

‘Three chairs, a big lock, a table and some candles,’ I said.

‘You didn’t say anything about candles.’

‘Ah, just throw them in as a goodwill gesture, Norman.’

‘You’re a chancer, Charlie, do you know that?’ Norman said.

‘Where will you get the stuff?’ I asked.

‘There are a few possibilities. Leave it with me.’

I sucked some air in and puffed out my chest.

‘Are you going to try The Big Man?’ I said nervously.

Just by uttering the words I knew I’d crossed the line.

Norman’s eyes tightened, as did his whole body.

‘Ssssshhhhh, for Christ’s sake,’ Norman said, indicating to Pav.

‘Sorry.’ I looked around for any eavesdroppers. ‘Pav’s OK. He knows zilcho.’

Obviously I didn’t know The Big Man personally, I’d only heard about him; everyone in Little Town had heard of The Big Man. He was like the king of the Rascals. The Grand Mafioso. The one whom everyone feared. The rumour was that The Big Man had some of Little Town’s Regime firmly by the gonads. Norman’s parents used to live in the same block as The Big Man before he became THE BIG MAN so that’s why he knew him. I think his dad and The Big Man were pals back in the day. Or he used to do some pick-up work for him. Whatever. They knew each other.

‘Don’t ask me about The Big Man, Charlie. OK?’

‘Got it.’

‘No, I’m serious about this. Don’t mention him. The Big Man talks about us, not the other way round, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Right, let’s leave it at that then.’

‘When will we hear from you?’ I said.

‘I’ll let you know as soon as,’ Norman said, before saying his goodbyes. He left us without shaking hands. We all had to do hand punches instead. He must have seen people doing it on television.

‘Charlie?’ Pav said.

‘Yes.’

‘What is Big Man?’

‘You don’t want to know, Pav. You don’t want to know.’

Every now and then, Mum and Dad get all sentimental about how life used to be, and I begin to understand how much it’s changed in Little Town and why Dad gets so angry and Mum gets so frustrated. Of course I don’t remember any of it, but back in olden times, before the Regime took over, a footloose and fancy-free young couple enjoyed life.

•
They went out to the pub, cinema, dancing, bingo, etc without worrying about a wrist-slapping for dis-obeying the dark curfew.
(Little Town introduced the dark curfew only after the old Government of the People was lobbed out and replaced by the Regime, our new Government. Since then it’s been all them and us and us and them. Dad says the people don’t have the
resources or power or money to get them out. He also says that all the new Government wants is to have full control over everything and that there’ll never be a free vote in Little Town. Not in his lifetime anyway.)

•
They used to have all these passionate political chats and debates with friends and colleagues over a few glasses of vino.
(The Regime and Rascals don’t like it if you complain about stuff, especially in public, so everyone stopped chatting. If you are seen to be a complainer they’ll make your life a living hell. And there are far too many ears and eyes in Little Town so it’s best to keep your mouth shut. Dad says that the Rascals are nothing more than the Regime’s henchmen and enforcers. Nothing more than a secret illegal police.)

•
They used to have pals who supported the Regime.
(Now we all live separately side by side. Dad says that the Regime supporters don’t like books or music or poetry or art. How can that be? And that their supporters are the ones with the best jobs and most money.)

•
They didn’t feel the need to look over their shoulder every time they popped out of an evening.
(Mum says that now Little Town living is tension-filled and not good for her blood pressure. The security can stop you at any time, ask some daft questions, pull stuff out of your bag, all because they want to hassle you up for the fun of it. Because they can.)