The Norway Room (4 page)

‘From school. My class. Ashley Loop. He's lying low so he won't have to go into care. He's cool.'

Tyr pulled Sophie's head towards him and kissed her, then led her to an armchair where she sat on his lap. The kid behind him, Geezbo, wearing long baggy shorts with his thick red bomber jacket and blade boots, sauntered across and bounced down beside Ashley. ‘Ashley Loop.' Said his name like he was tasting it. ‘Why they wanna to put you in care, Ashley Loop?'

‘His dad's inside and his mom's dead. Cancer.'

‘Where you livin', man?'

‘Cecil Road. His dad's house.'

‘Shut up, bitch. Will you let the man talk for 'is self?'

‘I'm staying in my house,' said Ashley. ‘Till my dad gets out.'

‘On yus own?'

‘Yeah.'

‘'Ow you livin', man?'

‘Odd jobs.'

Geezbo nodded, thinking. Tyr pulled his jacket open and peered inside. ‘Look what I got in 'ere. Smoke.' He picked cigarettes individually from the pack inside his jacket and threw one to each of them. A lighter followed.

Ashley inhaled. ‘Menthol! Shit, man. What you smoke menthol for?'

‘They were the nearest to the shop door, man.'

4

Someone was at the door. Ashley muted the telly and tried to work out who it might be. It wasn't the police, wasn't the neat rap of a social worker. He waited, and it came again. Not impatient. Sounded like it was being done with the heel of the hand. That'd hurt if you didn't know how to do it right.

Both the front room down here and the upstairs front bedroom were locked now; Crawford's territory. Out of bounds. So Ashley couldn't check from the windows. So. Soundless. Waiting. Like a cat poised for the getaway. The heel of the hand again. Harder this time. Three fast blows. Then the letterbox flicked.

‘Ashley Loop. I knows yus in tere, man. Could 'ear the telly. Knowed yus muted it now.' It was a kid's voice, but Ashley wasn't sure whose. ‘I'm the chief social worker for Brum and I've come to take you into care. A nice Christian family. Church every Sunday and clean pants.' Laughter. ‘No. It's me, Geezbo.'

Ashley opened the door. Geezbo was wearing his shorts again.

‘Don't you get cold?'

‘Don't matter, man. It my style. You gonna ask me in? I come to visit you, man.'

Ashley led him through to the back room. ‘Who told you where I live?'

‘Sophie, man. No trouble is tere? What you watchin'?'

‘Snooker. On tape. O'Sullivan and Ryan Day. Last year's championship.'

‘'Ere,' Geezbo lifted a sachet. ‘Got some weed for us. Catch.'

Geezbo removed his hood, put it on the table. Just a blue T-shirt underneath. Ashley noticed the way he filled it. His biceps stretching the sleeves. Ashley wished he had arms like those. Then you could properly take care of yourself. Geezbo was only a couple of years older than him, but Ashley knew he would never have a physique like Geezbo's, even in a couple of years, even if he trained.
Wiry
, his dad called it.

Ashley skinned up. Geezbo watched him like an assessor. ‘Yus good, man. Credit to you. Innit.'

‘Why you talking like that?'

‘What?'

‘Why d'you talk like that? Rasta black boy stuff. You all do it, specially when you're together. Why don't you talk proper English?' Ashley folded a roach.

‘It my style man. Me. I-den-tit-ee.'

‘You all do it.'

‘It a 'eritage ting.'

‘But you don't do it all the time. You turn it on. Or sometimes make it stronger. You was born in Birmingham, the same as me. You're English.' Ashley handed Geezbo the spliff to light up.

‘But it not my culture see. You 'ave to be true to your culture.' He examined the spliff, testing its firmness. ‘Nice job,' and lit up, inhaled. ‘Yeah, very good.' He passed it back to Ashley. They returned the sound to the snooker; watching and smoking.

Geezbo was nosey. Between making comments on the snooker he wanted to know why Ashley's dad was inside, and how Ashley was managing, especially for money. ‘You got it cool 'ere, man. Needs some hygiene. Know what I mean, man? Net curtains at the front, filthy as hell. But it cool.'

‘Fuck this is strong stuff,' Ashley said. The snooker balls seemed to be flying out of the screen.

‘Triple-wired. You know what I mean, man? Sweet.'

After the snooker they watched some football. ‘Something for you to know, man,' Geezbo said as Ashley changed tapes. ‘There's murder. In my family. My mom's uncle, innit. The last man to 'ang in Birmingham. Years and years ago, innit. But still family.'

Geezbo was too smashed to get home. They were watching
The Matrix
when he fell asleep. Ashley couldn't wake him so left him sleeping on the settee. He was gone by the time Ashley got up the next day.

‘Benjy will be right fucked off with you.'

‘I'm sorry I'm late, Mrs Graham.'

‘You know he likes his dogs walked early. That's the whole point.' Mrs Graham was up and dressed. ‘If we was going to leave it till this time I could do it myself.'

You're too fat to walk for more than five minutes, Ashley thought. ‘Sorry.' The dogs, hearing voices, had started to bark.

‘They need regularity. All dogs do. Specially Staffs.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Well make sure you're here at the proper time in future. And after you made such a good start last week.'

The dogs were eager to be away. Ashley leashed them and headed for the playing field. It was hard with frost and when they got down by the canal its surface was pocked black ice. The dogs, off their leashes now, made for it and Ashley had to shout them back. The ice looked solid enough, but you could never be sure, that's what they told little kids wasn't it, and the last thing Ashley wanted was to have to tell Benjy Graham that one of his dogs had ended up under the ice. He'd probably be joining the animal if that happened.

A group of Asian lads from the sixth form college that lay behind the bushes lining the canal were standing on Kinny Bridge smoking and stamping their feet against the damp cold. The dogs went barking towards them. Ashley could tell the lads were scared but didn't want to show it. Someone had told him that Asians were scared of dogs. ‘You never see Asians with dogs,' they said, and at the time he had thought this must be true, but since then he had seen Asians with dogs, usually shopkeepers though, usually with Alsatians, like Mrs Nayer, the woman who kept the shop at the foot of Walton Tower. The Asian lads laughed as the dogs approached them, but stopped stamping their feet. Cigarettes went into mouths and hands into pockets. Nervously they let the dogs sniff around their feet.

‘You're all right,' Ashley shouted as he walked past. ‘They don't bite.' The lads looked unconvinced. Muttering to each other in Asian.

Further on there was a bloke wearing a woolly hat and a donkey jacket with a toolbag slung over his shoulder and who wasn't scared at all. He crouched down, pushed and pulled the dogs. Made noises at them. Tugged their ears. Put his face close. The clouds of his breath mixed with the clouds of theirs. Ashley could see he was used to dogs, and they liked him. The man looked up. ‘These yours, mate?'

‘Walking them. For me uncle.'

A dog was licking each side of the bloke's face. The third had his muzzle cupped in the man's hand and was playfully tugging away. Ashley noticed a letter tattooed on each finger of the man's right hand. He could see
S
and
W
but couldn't make the other letters out. ‘You're a fine fella,' the man was saying to the dog. He looked up at Ashley. ‘Live on the Mendy, does he? Your uncle.'

‘Close.'

The man laughed. ‘Like you.' He rose. ‘Nice dogs anyway. Well looked after. You look after them for him, do you?'

‘A bit.' The dogs started to follow the man as he moved away in the opposite direction, but returned to Ashley when he called.

‘Well trained,' the man said.

‘Why yus got all the doors in your house locked, man? Whaz in dem rooms? Your old man got all his gear in there?'

Ashley shrugged. ‘They're just locked. Always have been.'

‘No, man. They new locks. Shiny little tings.'

‘What you been spying for?'

‘I'm not spyin', man. Jus look about me, innit. Know what I mean, man? Know where I'm goin. You get me? Tryin' to get to the bathroom when I stayed ova other night. Every door is locked.'

‘The bathroom's downstairs. At the end of the kitchen.'

‘I knowed that now. Damn near pissed myself finding out.'

For a moment Ashley wondered if he should tell Kieran about this. But Geezbo didn't know anything. Ashley didn't know anything. There was nothing to know. As far as he did know there was nothing in there – yet. He'd certainly never seen Kieran bring anything in. But that changed.

Ashley came back one afternoon after spending some time with Geezbo and Tyr at Sophie's. On the way back Geezbo had told him a secret. He said he was the one who had made Sophie pregnant, not Tyr. It was his baby. He had been shagging her for ages. But he wasn't going to let on. Tyr was part of Mendy West. ‘I got connections myself,' Geezbo said. ‘So if it came to it. Know what I mean, man? But there no reason for him to know. If that what Sophie want im to fink, it okay with me, man. It sweet.'

Kieran opened the door before Ashley could turn the key in the lock. He could hear voices in the front room. ‘Give us half an hour, will you? Ash. Here.' He fished in his pocket for a tenner. ‘Get yourself some chips. Give it an hour. We'll be finished then.'

‘Okay.' Ash had had some toast at Sophie's so he went to the arcade. The cancer woman wasn't there. It was the first time he had been there when she wasn't. There were quite a lot of people in but her machine was free. He didn't know whether to use it or not. It might bring him luck – or bad luck if she had got cancer.

There were two Chinese blokes in suits on the big jackpot machines. He wondered if they were part of the Dragons, the Chinese mob that did protection in the clubs and casinos in town. He'd heard his dad talking to Kieran about the trouble Crawford had with them sometimes. But he didn't think they would be out here in Stirchley. They usually kept to Chinatown. Probably waiters from Cotteridge, further up the Pershore Road. Cotteridge was full of restaurants. Indian. Chinese. All sorts.

He had started to move towards a machine when he heard Alma's voice. ‘Ten quid max for you. Remember.' He changed his mind and went on the cancer woman's machine and lost everything Kieran had given him. He wouldn't do that again.

When he got back to the house, Kieran was gone. It was all dark and cold. Quiet. He felt sad. He put the gas fire on but didn't bother with the light. He wondered what was in the front room. He supposed they had put something in there. He could pick the lock, but he was sure they would have set something up so they would be able to tell if he went in. He got up and went into the hall. Switched the light on. Carefully he examined the edge of the door. He couldn't see anything. He crouched down and examined the lock. A good mortise, but he should be able to do it. But. He reminded himself who he was dealing with. Kieran was all right but mess him about, and remember what he said –
You'll really be in the shit – buried in it
. Best leave it, for now.

It was pissing down when Ashley pressed Sophie's button beside the main door of Walton Tower. Above him he could hear the slap of the rain on the balconies. There were puddles in the lift. ‘Mel's here,' Sophie told him as she let him into the flat. ‘It's okay though.'

Mel, in a short, silky robe, pink fluffy slippers, dark glasses and a white baseball cap, was lying across the settee smoking, reading an Argos catalogue and watching
Trisha
on television. A glass ashtray rested on her belly. She inclined her head. ‘Hello, love, who are you?'

‘Ashley.' Sophie answered for him. ‘The kid from Stirchley. I told you. His dad's inside. Mom's dead with cancer. Wanna cup of coffee, Ash?'

‘Ta.'

‘I'll have another Oxo while you're in the kitchen, Bab.' Mel lifted a mug from the floor beside her. She turned to Ashley. ‘I'm off work today, love, with a migraine.' Sophie mouthed
hangover
above her mother's head. ‘Feel like death warmed up. And not that warm either.' She took a drag from her cigarette and patted it on the edge of the ashtray.

A woman on
Trisha
had started screaming, a lot of her words bleeped out. ‘You tell him love. You tell the bastard,' Mel called to the television. This made her cough.

‘Come in the kitchen with me, Ash.' Ashley followed Sophie.

‘And no more cigarettes this morning,' Mel called. ‘You've had two already. I've put her on six a day, Ashley. Don't let her smoke in there will you, love? Or Christ knows what she'll give birth to.' She began to cough again. A deep rattling noise. ‘Oh God!' She rapped on her chest with the side of her fist. ‘Die, bitch, die.'

In the kitchen Ashley watched Sophie unpeel an Oxo cube and crumble it into Mel's mug, spoon coffee into two others, pour boiling water into all three. While Sophie took the hot Oxo to her mother Ashley put milk and sugar into their coffees. He looked out of the kitchen window at the estate and beyond it. In the distance stood the metal fretwork of three enormous horseshoes, the new hospital they were building. And above the frameworks, cranes, five of them, reaching high into the cold silver sky then dipping down into the nest of the construction site.

When Sophie returned to the kitchen Ashley stuck his hand up his hoodie. Sophie watched him pull out a red Babygro and put it on the kitchen counter. Then another, white this time. A white cardigan. A blue one. Some white booties. ‘Present for you.'

‘Nicked.'

‘Nah.' He grinned.

‘Course they ain't.' She was grinning too.

‘The market. I tried Mother's Pride. But everything's tagged so—'

‘Mother's Pride?'

‘What's it called?'

‘Mothercare.'

‘Yeah. Well I need to do that when it's crowded. People to weave in and out of. So I can do a runner. I reckon I can get you a buggy though.'

Sophie collected up the baby clothes. ‘I'll show these to Mel.' Ashley frowned. ‘It's okay. She's cool.' Ashley followed Sophie but remained standing in the doorway. ‘Look, Mel. What Ash got me.'

Mel slid her head away from the television and pushed her shades above her eyes. In her other hand she held the remote. She muted the sound. ‘Oh Christ. Baby clothes. That's really cheered me up. I feel about forty now.' She reached for the bundle. ‘Nan. Christ.' She examined the clothes. ‘Nice though. Useful.' She looked towards Ashley still in the doorway. ‘Where you knock these from?'

‘Market.'

‘Be careful.' Then, to Sophie, ‘Some people think it's unlucky to get stuff too early. Still. Useful though. Thanks, love. I couldn't half do with a new leather purse next time you're down that way.' She handed the clothes back to Sophie. ‘The Somali lads, at the end of the curtains row, do some nice ones.' She returned her shades to her nose, her head to the arm of the settee and sound to the television.