Breakdown (19 page)

I round a corner and there's Tarquin. He's running towards me. Thank you, God. I don't know what to think.
Help me
. He must help me. He must know I tried to take off without them. I don't care. I'm so glad to see him.

‘Get back down the street. Find Lenny. Bring him here.' Tarquin pulls out the gun. He drops to one knee, holds the gun steady in both hands, shoots the lead dog dead in the face. I race on, find Lenny, grab his hand.

The dog goes down squealing. Thrashes about. His eye's a mess. Everything stops. All the running and the whooping and the cries of ‘Cut her down.' An ice front descends, freezing everything in its tracks.

One of the boys calls, ‘We're going back. We seen what you did to Kaylem. Nobody here wants to lose an eye. But now you're for it. You hear? Careem wants your head, and Lenny's, in a bag. He's got posses out after you, everywhere, every street. And he wants the ho.' The boy throws a finger at me.

‘Come an' take her then,' says Tarquin. ‘Scared of a BB gun?'

The boy doesn't move.

Tarquin stands back up, holds the gun level. Both hands. ‘Don't worry, Melissa,' he says. ‘Nobody's going to take you from me.'

A flicker of something shivers in my chest. If I could have gotten away, I would have. I'd have wiped Tarquin's steel-dark eyes out of my mind. I'd have forgotten everything about him. However hard. However much it hurt.

But I know then, at that moment, I'm not going to try and get away again. I can't do it any more.

I hold Lenny tight. He's trembling. I hold him very close.

Tarquin stands tall like a statue. The gangers drag their dogs away. One of them presses his hands together and bobs his head. Tarquin nods.

The boy slinks forward, hauls the injured dog off, backs up. They all back up. All the way down the street.

As they turn the corner, jeering starts. Calls of: ‘Pussy man,' and ‘Not for long.' Hooting, a crescendo of pan banging.

Tarquin turns to me. ‘Where?'

‘This way.'

‘Your place?'

I nod.

‘Sounds like a plan,' he says.

I lead them to my street. I open the side gate to the back garden and the flat. We pass alongside the house into the yard. I don't say anything. I know they know. They don't say anything. Tarquin just smiles. Lenny clings tight. We open the yard gate. Tarquin lets his arm rest on my shoulder, just for a minute. ‘Expect you was confused, just needed some time,' he says.

Lenny joins in. ‘'Cos you was upset.'

I daren't speak.

‘I do that,' says Lenny. ‘I run away when I can't stand it. I sticks my head in a corner.'

‘Being where your nan died.'

They don't say anything more. I don't either. I scuff along the tiled path to the flat door. Frowning. I keep my head up. I pull out the pot by the corner and get out the key. I figure they won't notice it's the same as the one on the key ring with the cottage.

The yard is just the same – straggly potato tops, old brick wall. I unlock the door. I push it open. We go down into the basement. Steep stone steps. Concrete floor. One tiny grille letting in a last sliver of light. Old fireplace. Smell of soot.

I can't think of anything else to do. Tarquin doesn't mention it again. Even if Lenny didn't guess, Tarquin did. I grope around for a lamp and the flint. Get it going. Point to a chair. If he's ready to bury it, so am I.

‘The gangs?' I ask. ‘How did Careem know? So quickly, about Kaylem?'

‘The Blah-Blah,' says Tarquin. ‘The pans.'

‘Oh.'

‘We bang out messages on them.'

‘I thought they were to scare off dogs.'

‘They do that too. But anyone who's a ganger knows how to hear the Blah-Blah.'

I see. All around me a secret language. Instructing thieves on thieving. Looters on looting.

‘Gives a running account of where you are, what swagger you got, blades, dog packs you're hunting, what your business is, where the army are, avoid getting curfewed, sent to the labour farms.'

I didn't know. ‘I'll get out wood,' I say. ‘If it's safe, I'll make a fire.'

‘It'll be safe enough for tonight,' says Tarquin.

The lamp flickers. Everything's the same as when I left. The worn rag rug, tall bookshelves, table in the middle of the room, potatoes still on it. They've got mould on them. Lenny looks at them wistfully. I throw them out. I got more potatoes. I get them out of the sack in the cupboard. I scoop out water from the pail. Wash out a pan in the sink. Scrub five potatoes. I set about cleaning out the fireplace, raking out the ashes. Fetch the firewood from under the steps. Get it going.

Tarquin pulls up the chair and sits. He puts the gun on the table. He stretches out his legs. He cups his hands round the back of his head. His jacket falls open. The fire catches. He exhales, soft air. I drag up a stool. I place it near his feet. ‘Put up your feet,' I say, just like I used to for Nan.

And this old, dry feeling comes over me. I see her garden stick by the door. I see her old blankets. All her little pots arranged by the windows with the seedlings in them, limp and drooping. I glance into the bedroom. I see her comb, her mirror, her things spread on the side table.

I want to hold them to me. Grip tight the fossil we found in the garden, her book of Greek stories, pray to all her Gods to take care of her in the underworld. I want to look into the mirror and see if any memory of her face lingers there. I want to gather up her old blankets and wrap myself inside them and lie down on the bed and rock myself into that other place.

As soon as I get the fire going, I go into her room. I don't let myself cry. I'm not going to feel anything again. Feeling is too hard. I stand there. I press her clothes against my face just for a second.

I hear the door. I drop the clothes. A hand touches my arm. I think that it must be Lenny. He still feels things. His feelings flow out unchecked. An arm goes round my shoulder. It isn't Lenny.

Tarquin doesn't say anything. He just keeps his arm around me. I just stand there. He presses his lips against the back of my neck. He doesn't kiss. I just feel him and his lips pressing against me.

The edges of me melt. I don't know where I stop and he starts. Like when you climb a steep hill and you're too weak. No one can carry you, but if you say you can do it, you can. It's like that. Drawing strength out of nothing. Some of Tarquin has got into me, and the two of us are stronger than I knew.

The moment passes. It's stupid to stand there with Nan's old clothes. I go back out and cook the potatoes.

Tarquin follows me. He says, ‘We can't stay here.'

You can never go back, can you? Things happen and you can't unhappen them.

‘They'll find this place. They'll rip it apart.'

I realise I'm trembling.

‘They'll get trackers on to us at dawn – nowhere's safe now.'

He's right.

‘How long have we got?' I say. I know we don't have long.

‘We should leave tomorrow.'

I thought we might have had a bit longer.

‘We daren't risk going back to the waterfront either. They'll watch everywhere we've been.'

I don't say anything. I just take down more of Dad's books and pile them on the floor beside the fire. Nobody's going to read them now.

The books burn. The room warms up. I boil a little pan of potatoes. I cook the rest of the noodles. I poach our last egg. I serve it all up. We eat. I find some of the dandelion leaf tea. I brew a pot.

Lenny is warm and full. He snuggles by the fire in the armchair and falls into a deep sleep. He doesn't ask me to read his book. He hugs it to him, as if he's scared we're going to put it on the fire.

Tarquin and I sit facing each other across the table.

‘We really got to go tomorrow?'

‘If I was on my own, I'd have gone tonight.'

‘OK.'

‘But.'

I nod. He doesn't need to explain. I look at Lenny on the chair. He doesn't need to explain anything.

I bite my lip. I should tell. Now. While Lenny's asleep. While there's still a little time to make a plan.

I take a deep breath. ‘Tarquin,' I say.

He looks at me.

‘I got something to say.'

But what if he walks out on me?
Nothing will bind us together any more. What will I do then?

I could have managed alone, fought off a few dogs, if I was left alone. But I can't stand against Careem. He'll find me. They'll find this place. He'll send me to the General.

If Tarquin walks out on me, where can I go? Alone?

‘You don't have to explain,' says Tarquin.

I'm better off if we stick together. I'm far better off. We can go north. Why not? Why not pretend a little longer? North is as good as any other direction. I don't have to tell them yet.

I hesitate, bite my lip. ‘Thanks.'

We might never get to Scotland. We might get somewhere different. There may never be any need to tell anything. Ever.

I sit there. I fight hard against this swallowing feeling. I'm all wrong inside.

‘You're very beautiful.'

I look up in surprise.

‘And Lenny loves you.'

His eyes are shining.

‘And I won't do nothing to damage that.'

I try to grasp what he means.

‘Like I said in them tunnels, you're safe. I'll protect you, like I do Lenny. I'm your friend.'

‘Oh,' I say.

‘I'm trying to say, you ain't got nothing to fear from me.'

And I understand. The curtain pillowing my head, the lips on the back of my neck. The silence when I tried to run. The arm across my shoulder. He cares about me for Lenny's sake.

‘
Un vrai ami, pas comme les autres que vous avez eu jamais.
^[1]
'

I shake my head. ‘Why do you do that?' I say. ‘Suddenly start speaking in French?'

He smiles. ‘Some things come easier in my own tongue,' he says. ‘An' I like to use it. I ain't got no one else to use it with.'

‘Not Lenny?'

‘Not Lenny.'

‘But I don't understand it.'

‘I'll teach you one day.'

I sigh. Get up. It's not just French I don't understand. I don't understand why he doesn't speak it to Lenny. I don't understand him. I don't understand anything. I busy myself. Collect clothes. Clear plates off the table.

‘Good idea,' says Tarquin. ‘Pack everything that's gonna be useful. And then we gotta sleep. Tomorrow when we're shot of London, we'll figure out how we're gonna get north.'

‘OK.'

‘At first light when we know the street dogs are gonna be tired, before they get the trackers out, we leave.'

I poke the fire. Watch the last book burn.

‘Can't figure out much more than that now.'

I go round the place. I pile on the table things that might be useful. I heat up an old iron saucepan on the embers of the fire. I wrap it in the cloth hanging by the grate. I put it in the double bed like I used to for Nan and me. When I'm sure the bed is cosy and warm, I tell Tarquin.

‘Lift Lenny into the bed. We can't keep the fire going all night.'

Tarquin lifts him in. He drags Nan's old suitcase into the kitchen. We pack it. We put in thick clothes. We find three good-sized shoulder bags. I give him everything that was Dad's. Everything that's left: a hat, gloves. He finds the old pair of binoculars.

‘Take these?'

I nod.

There's not much food left. Some potatoes.

There's only one bed. We get into it. Me and him and Lenny in the middle, all warm and cosy. Lenny sighs and snuggles down. A little smile flicks across his face. The fire shadows play on the ceiling through the open door. I look across at Tarquin. It's very dark. He looks across at me. The light catches his eyes. I imagine him smiling. I smile back. He reaches out a hand, finds mine and holds it.

I wake in the night; the fire shadows are gone. Just a dull glow. Lenny's got his head on my shoulder. Tarquin's got his arm flung over us both. I look at him sleeping. His darkened face, soft, just a shape. His locks tossed aside. Worry lines smoothed out into a blur. I could have liked his face.

I stare up at the ceiling.

This is the fourth time he's saved you. Can't you trust him yet?

But saved me for what? So that I can leave this place forever and go to some other place. A place that doesn't exist. I stroke Lenny's hair back from his face. I look at him instead.

Nan visits me in the night. In dreams she comes to me, out of that green hollow.

Her hand rests on the book of Greek stories. She wears a cloak of white cotton. ‘You have taken the Torch from Olympia,' she says. ‘You must understand what that means. Prometheus stole fire. But he could not see the future. He brought only tragedy. Prometheus was punished.'

And from that place over the doorstep, another voice seems to speak. Like one of the Gods from Mount Olympus.

It thunders. ‘You have stolen from the Gods.

‘The time has come.

‘The past is gone.

‘There's no way back.'

I turn in my sleep, only half awake.

Tarquin tosses in his sleep, murmurs, ‘
Pour l'amour de Dieu.
'

The past is gone.

Tomorrow we head north.