Trash (11 page)

And that was when I came to learn a few things about Rat that I had never known and never asked about.

We cut back to the trail that takes you to the disused belt – belt number fourteen – checking the whole way that nobody was watching. I was still feeling scared whatever I did now – I could not shake it off, and I was always watching behind me, so when we went down the steps, and the rats flew up, I cried out and he had to hold me like a little kid.

‘How do you live down here?’ I said. It was the most disgusting place on the whole dumpsite.

He just laughed. ‘It’s the best house I ever had,’ he said.
‘You don’t like it because you’re lucky. You always had a house.’

‘I don’t know how you stand it, boy.’

‘They don’t bother me, I’m telling you. You get some that are friendly.’

‘And what about at night?’ I said. ‘They never take a bite out of you?’

Rat laughed at me. ‘They have a sniff, OK – maybe, when I’m sleeping. But what they gonna bite? There’s no meat on me.’

He lit a couple of candles. I could hear scufflings in the wall, and mewling yelps.

‘There’s a nest somewhere,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t sleep down here if you paid me.’

‘There’s always nests everywhere. That’s a big one, though, OK? They kept me awake last night – must be hundreds of them. Oh, and by the way – that bag …’

‘What about it?’

Just the thought of the bag and I froze up.

‘You can tell the police to come down here and look, because that bag’s gone, Raphael. Two nights, and they’d eaten it. The wallet too: chewed up and disappeared.’

He was rocking a brick backwards and forwards gently. Then he turned and looked at me, suddenly serious.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I better trust you. I just better trust you, and you better be good to trust. I know you’re going to tell Gardo, but you tell nobody else!’

‘Tell what?’ I said. I had no idea what he was saying.

‘I’m just thinking, here you are – here’s me, showing you all my secrets. You could rob me blind now, you and Gardo – what would I do then?’

He was fierce, but all I could do was laugh at him. Not to be mean – but the idea of robbing Rat was crazy.

‘What is there to rob?’ I said. ‘A little pair of shorts, and you’re wearing them.’

Rat started to laugh right back at me. It was a high-pitched squeak of a laugh. The brick was on the floor now, and he was reaching into the space behind. Carefully, with his thin fingers – with the rats going crazy all around us – he removed a small metal box, not much bigger than a cigarette carton, and closed up tight. He set it between his feet and opened it.

He grinned up at me. ‘Not much to rob, huh? You want to see what I’ve got? I’ve got more than you think.’

‘What’s in there?’

‘Buried treasure, boy. Two thousand, three hundred and twenty-six pesos. My going-away fund.’

Sure enough, he showed it to me, counting it out. I think the amazement must have shown in my face, because he started laughing again, and rocking on his heels. ‘I got one more box for just day-to-day stuff,’ he said. ‘One more tin box, that is, so the rats don’t eat it. Two hundred and sixty in that one. I figure, today we’re on a kind of holiday – so I’m gonna borrow out of this one, the travelling box.’

‘But how do you get so much?’ I said. I was totally amazed. Two thousand was a fortune for boys like us.

‘I get it slow, and I keep it. Everyone gives me a little. The little piles up, and I don’t eat much, or I get given food. Sister Olivia, for instance – she gave me fifty just yesterday, and then I went back for a sandwich.’

‘And what are you saving for?’

Rat put his head down and seemed to be thinking hard. Then he crept to the steps and took a long look up them, like he really thought there might be someone listening. He came back and squatted – put a banknote in his pocket and closed the lid of the box. Then he put his hands up on my shoulders and looked right in my eyes.

‘You and me are friends now,’ he said, ‘right?’

I nodded.

‘Real friends?’ he said.

‘Of course,’ I said.

‘OK, I’m going to tell you something I never told any other boy. I told Olivia, made her promise to tell no one, just because I was so tired of never telling.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. A rat ran over his foot in the darkness, right between us; I had to force myself to keep still. ‘I’m not from round here,’ he said. ‘You know that, don’t you? Like, most of you are Behala boys, but I come from the south. I was at Central Station for nearly a year, and I heard about the Mission School, so this is where I came.’

I nodded again, and he was quiet. Like the secret inside was so big he couldn’t say it.

‘I want to go home, Raphael,’ he said. He was so quiet I
could hardly hear. ‘I came off the islands when I had to. I want to go back.’

‘Where’s your home?’

‘Sampalo. That’s where I was born.’

‘Go home then,’ I said. ‘You can go home with two thousand, can’t you? The ferries cost … I don’t know—’

He snorted, and I shut up.

‘I can go home on the ferry, sure – go tomorrow if I want. And then what, when I get there? It’s cost a thou just for the ticket. What happens then? You think people in Sampalo live on sand? That’s why everybody comes
here
, man – that’s why I came here. That’s why I got sent here! I’ve gotta make a stake. Fifty thousand is what I need. Then I buy a boat, and I go home and fish for ever.’

‘You can fish?’ I said.

‘Course I can fish! I was fishing before I could talk! I could swim before I could crawl! I will buy a boat, and I’m going to fish and fish and fish.’

I looked at Rat then, because he sounded so fierce – and that wide-eyed, old little face looked back at me. I tried to imagine him back on his island, Sampalo, steering his fishing boat, throwing out the lines. I’d heard of the place, of course – and never known it was Rat’s home. It was a place people talked about, and I knew it was a long, long way away. Tourists went there, and it was supposed to be beautiful as paradise. You cried when you got there, you cried when you left – that’s what people said.

‘With a boat I can fish,’ he said. ‘That’s got to be better
than what we do here, hasn’t it? Huh? Little house on the beach?’ He was looking at me hard. ‘Fishing boat out on the sand? None of this stink – none of this … crazy way to make a living. You, me. Gardo too – all of us maybe. Sun comes up, we’re already out. Been out all night, maybe – you think about it.’

‘I can’t fish,’ I said.

‘So what?’ he said. ‘I teach you. Cook what you need, sell the rest at the market – grow flowers. I had a sister grew flowers right out of the sand. You like the thought of that?’

‘We’d need more money,’ I said. ‘We’d need to buy three boats, not one.’

‘Yes,’ said Rat. ‘Maybe so. But …’

He was quiet a moment, thinking hard. ‘Whatever happens, we can’t stay here much longer, can we?’

I felt him touch my face very softly.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I guess we’ve got to wait and see what happens.’

‘You can’t stay here, Raphael. You’ll always be thinking they’re coming back for you.’

I was still swollen up and bruised, but the cuts were healing. My ribs were aching from when they hauled me in back through the window, and every time I touched them I felt sick again. So, yes – I did know what he meant, but how he knew it I don’t know. That time with the police had changed everything, and people seemed different now too – people were looking at me strangely, like I’d
brought bad luck. They’d all been pleased to see me back safe – but … my auntie was scared, and I was scared. There was something else too that I never told Rat, because I was ashamed.

It was sleep.

I was finding sleeping hard. I was having nightmares and waking up crying. I’ll tell the truth – I said I would – I was wetting myself too. I would wake up with Gardo holding me like I was a baby and the cousins waking up scared, crying out, and the neighbours banging the walls because I was screaming so loud.

I think Auntie wanted me out, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

This is Rat, also known as Jun-Jun – I tell my story and it’s written down!

We took a bus from the dumpsite, took it right into the city to the big crazy bus station, Raphael going first and doing the talking. OK, he was bruised up, so he still looked a state – but when you look like me, you can’t even get a ride very often, not when you’re alone: you get kicked off like you’re a curse. So he led the way but I was steering, hiding my ugly face till we were squeezed on up the back.

Of course, when we got to the stand we found out that buses to Zapanta’s land went from a different place, so we jogged a couple of miles and caught a big red one. Under bridges, over bridges, me by the window looking out over the freeway past some shopping mall the size of a town with a great big sports stadium where they were going to have some great big boxing match, pictures of the fighters
on scaffolds, grinning down like giants. People getting up and people getting down, running for the bus, and the ticket boy banging the side, screaming – then in two hours we were free and running out into the fruit fields in the sun. We went high up a hill and then came down into a valley, and it felt good to be getting so far away, and I could feel Raphael relaxing too, and we were humming to the music and playing with some sweet little kid on the seat in front of us. We even got a nice view of the sea, because Green Hills is right by a very pretty stretch. The rich all love a bit of the sea, don’t they? – and it sure smells nicer than the sludge and stupp we call Behala.

Then the driver stopped by a huge set of gates and whistled to us.

People watched us getting down, and I said goodbye to them all, shaking hands for fun – them thinking I was a mad kid being taken out by a friend so smiling back. I was laughing when we hit the ground, and I took care that we moved on straight away, though I took a big look at the gatehouse – I wasn’t going to let Raphael keep still, because I knew he was scared of everything, and if I let anything happen, Gardo would probably just cut my head off with his hook.

Two guards by the gate looked right at us, and I felt him tense up, but we were gone, me first, him right behind, holding my hand. I saw a guard with a dog just inside, and there were two with machine guns. There was a big pole to stop traffic getting through up the drive, and spikes up
off the road in case anyone tried it. The road stretched off into the distance, and all the trees and grass were like a park – like paradise, like Mr Vice-President had bought up paradise and got his boys on the door in case anyone came wanting a piece of it. We ran, me laughing like we were just kids out having fun – little kids that nobody gets suspicious of – and we kept going, following the walls. We came to another gatehouse soon, just as grand, with big metal gates tight shut – and we kept on going. I guessed there’d be cameras somewhere, but the only ones I’d seen so far were at those gates, so I was more hopeful. I was pretty sure we could get into the grounds if we wanted to, just by hopping up a tree. How close we’d get to the house was another thing.

And why would our souls be singing? Maybe it was on fire, and the fat man’s ass was roasting like a pig? That would be a thing to see. Anyway, that’s when Raphael stopped, out of breath and sick suddenly. He pulled me back and said: ‘Is this such a good idea?’

‘What?’ I just pretended not to understand, trying to get him on again.

‘Is this a good idea? Rat, if anyone sees me …’

I put my arm right round him and pushed him to the side. ‘Who’s going to see you?’ I said. ‘You’re asking this now? Spending my money, and all you want to do is go home?’

‘I’m just thinking …’ He was trying to be calm, but he was sweating bad. ‘What are we going to find out? All
we’re gonna do is get ourselves chased and maybe even thrashed—’

‘We’ve been chased before, Raphael. They don’t catch us.’

‘This is someone big, though. You saw the size of that dog!’

‘They’re for show. They’re all lazy as hell—’

‘We’ve
seen
the place,’ he said. ‘We can see what kind of place it is!’

I trotted on to a tree. I felt I had to keep him moving, so I pulled him towards it.

‘Just follow,’ I said. ‘You’re braver than me. We can do this!’

I got up the trunk and hauled myself higher. Raphael followed, thank goodness, and soon we were up in the leaves looking way over the fence into the promised land – I did Bible study at the Mission School and it was helping me now: I felt like little Moses. We eased out onto the thinnest, longest stem that could take our weight, and dropped easily onto the grass, rolling up onto our feet. Then we were running again, towards a little cluster of trees. Coming through them, past a little pond, we found ourselves on what I knew was a golf course, with nice little lawns and a flag, and a little sandpit for the kids. There was nobody around, but water sprinklers sprinkling, to keep the grass looking so fresh and green you wanted to roll in it. We kept low, and we tried always to be in the cover of rising ground if we could – but we saw nobody.

Soon we got to a line of huge trees, whose branches came down low. They were brushing the grass, and it was a good place to be – it was cool, and we were hidden. We were squeezing through to the other side and looking out – that’s when we saw it.

Raphael said, ‘Boy.’

I just looked at it, lost for words.

‘How many people live there?’ he said.

I laughed. I laughed for some time, and finally said, ‘Do you know, I bet it’s just him! I bet it’s just one big man, walking around all day, looking at his money, scared to death someone’s coming to get it.’

‘How rich do you have to be?’ said Raphael. ‘Just look at it …’

‘Look at the towers, man – it thinks it’s a castle. It thinks it’s in a fairy tale.’

I was drinking it in, too amazed, because I had never seen anything like it. The man had chosen his spot, I’ll say that for him. He’d bought up the prettiest bit of woods in the land, and just where the grass ran down nice and flat, he’d built himself a palace, for the king he thought he was. It was all black and white wood, like stripes and crosses, with so many windows you wouldn’t want to count them, let alone clean them. It was all stacked up in layers, and there was a golden dome in the middle, catching the sun – like halfway through, the builders had said they ought to try making a cathedral, just for the fun of it. At each end stood a tower with battlements, and our country’s flags
were waving proudly, and everywhere else were fussy little spires and statues. There was a great big fountain too, jetting up right in the front, shooting up even now, in the dry season, with nobody to look at it except us.