Breakdown (11 page)

S

uddenly there's this great clanging. Tarquin straightens up. Something like alarm seems to spike through him. ‘They're summoning us to the arena,' he says.

Lenny sits up.

I wait for Tarquin to do something, say something. My brain's really working now. If he falls for it, let him fall for it, then maybe I can get away, maybe –

Nailey busts in. ‘You're needed up in the arena. You.'

I don't say anything. I stand up. Nailey nudges Lenny. ‘Not her, you.'

‘What's wrong?' asks Lenny.

‘Extraordinary meeting.'

‘I'm scared,' says Lenny. Tarquin reaches out a hand to help him up but Lenny doesn't take it.

‘It's nothing. Nothing bad,' says Tarquin. ‘We'll be OK.'

‘You don't have to come,' Nailey says pointedly at Tarquin.

‘Why just me?' Lenny looks up at us all.

‘Just move,' says Nailey. ‘I'll take charge of
you
.' He grabs my arm, drags on it like I'm some kind of dog. Like I can't be left alone with Tarquin in case he bruises me again. So I follow. Lenny holds on to me. Tarquin follows too.

We all stumble through the dark corridors and up onto the stadium walkway. Others are heading to the arena too. They're grumbling.

I grope with my hand along the rail, miss my footing. Tarquin catches my elbow. I lean on him.

Lenny grips my hand tight.

‘What's it about?' he whispers.

‘Don't know,' whispers Tarquin. He's not happy. After a few moments he adds, ‘I think it's the other gang. They arrived earlier.'

‘Which other gang?' asks Lenny.

‘Not from inside the stadium,' says Tarquin. ‘From down Limehouse way.'

‘Them?' asks Lenny.

‘Yep,' says Tarquin. And I'm none the wiser except that from the way Lenny says ‘them' I know they're not nice.

But even ‘not nice' might open up a door for me. I glance up at the old exit sign, swinging broken on its backing.

I slow down. I let Nailey get a good ten paces ahead. ‘Tarquin,' I whisper. ‘If you can get me out – that place with the cottage does exist  … '

Tarquin shakes his head. I try to read what that shake means. Did I move too early? Then he shoots a look at Nailey. I understand.

‘If you could –'

‘Shush,' says Tarquin.

But the seed is planted.

‘You shouldn't tell her to shush,' says Lenny.

‘And you,' snaps Tarquin.

‘If you'd left us alone, she wouldn't have decided to go without me on Friday,' says Lenny sulkily.

‘You're right, you're trouble,' says Tarquin, throwing a look at me. It's the first time I've seen him so edgy.

My heart sinks. Maybe I played my hand too early.

‘I want to go with her to the secret place,' says Lenny.

Nailey's waiting for us. He catches what Lenny says.

‘You'll be going someplace all right,' laughs Nailey. ‘And it ain't gonna be no secret.'

We turn through the entrance and enter the stadium.

We're not the first there. Figures trickle in through the athletes' entrance and some have already gathered in the centre. Lenny's friend the brindle tracker dog trots over. Nailey kicks out at it.

In the middle of the arena, squatting around the fire, are new faces. They're scruffy and bearded. They look a lot older than Careem's crew. They're bone thin with rags tied round them. They smell like this place, but they look worse. Instantly my blood freezes. Lenny lets out a small whine and clutches tight to my hand. He pulls on me and hangs back.

Nailey lets go of my arm, moves off, goes up to Careem, points us out. Careem nods.

‘Be OK,' I say to Lenny. ‘Think of the cottage and those ducks. We'll go there after all this and lie out in the garden, check the hens are safe in their hen runs, and munch on blackberries.'

‘You promise?' he whispers. ‘You won't go without me again?'

‘I promise.' I squeeze his hand.

‘What?' says Tarquin.

‘Our secret,' says Lenny.

Careem stands up. His gangers start banging their tin pans. Everyone gathers behind Careem.

The two groups face each other across the fire. I can feel the tension in Tarquin. ‘Just watch out,' he says.

‘OK.'

Suddenly he turns to me, grabs hold of my hand. His palms are slick with sweat. ‘If anything kicks off, get Lenny back to the changing rooms. I'll get you out.'

I nod. I want to smile. The seed is growing. ‘Careful, Melissa,' I hear Nan warn. ‘Let the roots grow first. Water it gently. Roots can grow in darkness – don't let in the light too quickly.'

‘And if nothing kicks off,' I say, ‘is that still a deal?' I make my point. I only help if the deal works both ways.

He looks at me. Reluctantly nods.

The pan banging reaches a crescendo. Careem raises his hands. In each one is a long bone. He waits till the noise subsides. ‘Careem of Bone Cross Bone Crew salutes you peeps,' he says. He knocks the bones together.

On the far side of the fire, the leader of the Limehouse Gang stands up. The rest remain squatting like tribesmen. They're armed with every kind of weapon going. There's a real hush. Everyone strains to hear their business.

‘Buffalo Badman of Limehouse Boys greets your peeps too.'

Careem knocks the bones again. ‘Times is hard and it's Dog's Law, but we're better off working as allies. The Blah-Blah says south gangs getting up a bevy and Brixton Boys joining up with Peckham Shooters and Catford Peel Dem Crew.'

‘That's what we heard too,' says the big guy, Buffalo.

‘Yeah,' says Careem. ‘So Limehouse and Games City Bone Cross Bone gonna get up a horde too.'

A gasp goes through the people. They swallow it quickly, try not to let their dismay show.

‘I don't like them,' says Lenny. ‘They're mean.' The brindle tracker creeps forwards. She licks Lenny's hand.

I want to laugh. It's not exactly like Careem is kind and the Bone Cross Bone Boys are saints is it?

‘I'm scared,' says Lenny.

‘What of?' snaps Tarquin, but I notice he stands in front of Lenny, putting himself in between the Limehouse crew and his little brother.

‘Guster says they eat people,' says Lenny.

‘Shush,' says Tarquin.

‘Nobody eats people,' I say, smoothing Lenny's hair back.

‘I'm still scared.'

Careem waves the bones again. A hush falls. ‘Give my Limehouse brothers a cheer,' he says. There's a half-hearted cheer – no pan banging, and a bit of mumbling.

Careem whips round. The mumbling stops. A hush replaces it. ‘Give my friends a better greeting,' he says, his voice low and dangerous.

There's a strained cheering. A few claps. And then silence.

‘We've entered into a deal with them,' he says. There's no clapping.

‘If anyone don't wanna do the deal I can take yous down to the coast, over to the continent and trade your arse.'

Deadly silence. Everybody knows the continent is a wasteland. Everybody knows France had the most nuclear hits. Nobody wants to be sent down the tunnel there.

‘All right,' says Careem. ‘You give them respect. They're allies now and we're going to make the usual fealty ties.'

‘What's that?' I ask.

Tarquin doesn't answer. He's gone pale. He's pushing Lenny behind him.

‘Yeah, so you bring one of your youngers to us and we'll raise him as a Games Ganger and we'll give you one of our youngers to be raised as a Limehouse Boy. Cement the good will,' continues Careem.

I feel Lenny's grip on my hand tighten.

‘We brought you one already,' grunts Buffalo. He shoves forward a little girl. She's been stripped to the waist. Buffalo spins her round like she's a top. Her back is a lattice of lash marks. She's so thin every rib shows.

‘She's had a fair bit of use, but she's well trained and'll do anything.' A filthy laugh goes through the Limehouse Boys.

‘But it sounds like you prefer boys?' yells one of them. There's another dirty laugh.

‘Some of us do an' all,' another adds.

‘Yeah, we prefer boys,' says Careem, unabashed. ‘And I've got just the one for you.' He looks around. Tarquin pushes Lenny out of sight.

‘You,' calls Careem, pointing a bone right at Tarquin. ‘Bring him out.'

A chant goes up. ‘Len-ny. Len-ny.'

Lenny's hand grips mine till it hurts. But there are other hands working against ours. They tear him from me, push Tarquin sideways, drag Lenny out into the centre of the arena. The brindle dog suddenly growls.

‘There he is,' says Careem. ‘He's been a bit spoiled, so it'll do him good to toughen up. You do what you like with him.'

Lenny's shaking, trying not to cry. Tarquin is whiter than a ghost. ‘No!' he yells. He tries to struggle forward. Kaylem approaches him, wielding an iron bar. ‘I'll go instead,' yells Tarquin. ‘I'm grown. I'll be more use.'

Careem doesn't even bother turning his head. Kaylem lowers the bar. Tarquin ducks, kicks out. The bar spins out of reach. Tarquin goes to shout again. Kaylem's fist crumples into his face. His cry is cut short.

‘We'll make the exchange tomorrow,' says Careem. ‘Bring your younger over and we'll kill a dog and roast it.'

Lenny shoots me a terrible look.

I didn't know I cared about him. I didn't know his little-hand holding and his snuggling up had found a door in my heart. My chest freezes. I can't speak. I can't take in that look.

They let him go. He runs, stumbles, finds me.

I cling on to him like he's my own flesh. Tarquin struggles up, blood dripping from his nose. He stands in front of us. Broken.

And Careem is laughing and doing high fives with the other gang leader. He waves his hand, as if that's all there is to us – no more favours, no more future, no more nothing, and his two henchmen come and roughly pull us over.

‘Lock Tarquin and Lenny up with the girl,' orders Careem. ‘Let them have their little fond farewells. Ain't nobody gonna say I'm a hard-hearted man. Use the secure room, down by the lockers. We don't want any of 'em trying a runner, do we?' He guffaws, vulgar, loud-mouthed, raises a bone and shakes it at Tarquin. The message is clear:
You had this coming. I told you I'd deal with you. You ain't nothing. I'm the boss. You're gonna get it now.