by Paris Lees
I know I’m bein’ ridiculous. I hope I am, anyway. Coz Mammar Joe’s the only person I’ve always felt I could trust. She wun’t hurt a fly. Mammar Joe’s the sorta person who’d go hungry to let ya have ’er last bit of food. Me an’ Lady Die turned up unannounced once an’ she were like, “Oh dear, it’s like Old Mother ’ubbard’s round here”, an’ gave us ’er last tin o’ beans. She’s always made me feel welcome, I could knock on ’er door any hour an’ I know she’d be pleased to see me. But I can’t help it. “Paranoia’ll destroy ya,” as Fag Ash always sez. I like the other one though. “Just coz yer bein’ paranoid don’t mean they’re not out to get ya.” Coz it’s true! But why would Mammar Joe try an’ poison me?
I were watchin’ EastEnders under the quilt when she brought me Heinz fuckin’ soup again. All I’ve had to eat for the past week is soup an’ cheese sandwiches, but it din’t taste right. An’ it had this colourful film floatin’ on it. She were like, “Get that down yer neck. You’ll be rate in no time.” “Rate” is how Mammar Joe sez “alright”. But there were just summat in ’er voice that din’t sound right to me, like someone playin’ the wrong note in the back of a song. I were thinkin’, Why is she sayin’ I’ll be alright? How does she know? An’ what the fuck is tomato’ soup gonna do?
I’ve still got the fags. Malboro. Reds. I’m gonna show ’em Peter an’ I’m gonna tell ’im, if I’m imaginin’ it, why do they have marks on ’em? Ya can see little splashes. Yellow an’ green marks. Mammar Joe can see ’em too. So could Smanfa. Four days later. In the daylight. So it can’t all be in ma ’ead, can it? They did summat to these cigarettes, I know they did. I have to find out what. I feel so weak, though. Fag Ash text me on Tuesday, she guz, “What got into you on Sunday?” I thought, I don’t know, Asha, you tell me? But I an’t replied. Why would Mammar Joe try an’ poison me?
Little Bird
“No call, no text, no nuffin.” Rather stupidly, I hadn’t predicted this. But I can tell it’s gonna be bad. I’m on the edge o’ the settee. I’ve kept ma trainers on. Ma ’ead can’t deal wi’ this. “Ya treat this ’ouse like a fuckin’ hotel.” Oh yeah, Gaz, you’d make a brilliant hotel manager, you. Guests’d be queuein’ up for miles! Imagine the welcome: “Good afternoon, Madame. Can I interest ya in a glass of wine an’ a clip round the earhole, ya stupid lil’ cunt?” I can’t be doin’ wi’ confrontation though, so I tell ’im I’ve bin badly. “Mammar Joe’s bin lookin’ after me. I thought me mam woulda told ya.’ It’s true, I’m not very well. Not very well at all. “Ya could’ve messaged me,” he guz. “Ya could’ve called Mammar Joe,” I go. Only in ma ’ead, though. I feel strange. Detached.
Then he’s like, “D’ya think I were born yesterday?” An’ I have to bite ma tongue again coz it wun’t surprise me at all, actually. I look out the window an’ there’s a sparrow on the front wall peckin’ at the moss between the bricks. It smells like gravestones when it’s damp. They took the railin’s away durin’ the war an’ used the iron to make weapons. I sat on it once an’ gorra mark on ma jeans that wun’t come out no matter how many times I put ’em in the wash, just one of many things on the list of stupid stuff I’ve done. It were pissin’ it down on the way an’ the hydrangea’s covered wi’ rain drops. It’s pink. Aunty Ray’s is purple. I prefer hers.
“Ya waltz in here an’ think ya can do as ya please. Ya prance around like a little fuckin’ gel, always gorra be different, always wantin’ attention. What sorta fuckin’ lad are ya? None of yer cousins are like this.” Would that be ma cousin who works in a dodgy factory changing the labels on tinned food so shops can sell ’em past their sell-by date? Or the heroin addict? But I just sit an’ enjoy the performance, coz who’s the attention-seeker now? Don’t let me interrupt yer monologue, Gaz. “All ya care about is yersen – just like ya mother, yo’ are!”
When I first got ma mobile, I used to withhold ma number an’ call the landline in the middle o’ the night. I’d wait till I could hear ’im snorin’, then I’d hear ’im goin’, “Who the bleedin’ hell is callin’ at this time o’ night?” an’ I’d lay there, cramped up wi’ laughter. I’d just let it ring an’ ring till eventually I’d hear ’im jump out of bed an’ bomb downstairs. When I heard the livin’ room door fling open – an’ that he were just about to reach the phone – I’d hang up. He went absolutely mental. An’ the moment he got back into bed, I’d do it again. He disconnected the phone in the end. I’d have done it every night if I could, but I had to be careful in case he ever worked it out. An’ as he’s stood there, goin’ on at me, I start thinkin’ about it, an’ how angry he got. An’ I start laughin’. I can’t help it. He guz, “Think it’s funny, do ya? Well, ya can fuck off back to wherever you’ve bin as far as I’m concerned.” I look out the window an’ see the sparrow fly off.
He guz, “Ya walk out that door a boy. But one day you’ll come back, an’ when ya do you’ll be a man.” I mean, I wun’t hold your breath, Gaz. But d’ya know what? Leavin’s a brilliant idea. Mint. Best you’ve ever ’ad. Coz I’m sixteen an’ I can do worra want now. D’ya even know how old I am? Coz I seemed to miss ma birthday card from ya this year. Mammar Rita must’ve forgotten, but then ya do have so many children for ’er to keep track o’ these days, don’t ya? I don’t know if it’s even occurred to ya that I’m old enough to leave, but you’ve said it now, an’ I don’t need askin’ twice. I don’t say any o’ this out loud, mind. In fact, I don’t intend on sayin’ another word to dear old Pappa for the rest of ma life. This little bird’s fallen out o’ that nest now.
She Wants to Move
I called Peter earlier an told ’im everythin’. He sez I’m ma own worst enemy. Sez it sounds like a psychosis. Well, whatever it was, it weren’t good. I can’t believe I thought Mammar Joe were tryna poison me. I must be really losin’ the plot if I think Old Mother ’ubbard’s against me – the only thing she’s guilty of is havin’ bare friggin’ cupboards. All she’s ever done is love an’ look after me. ’Er an’ Aunty Ray are the only ones who’ve always bin there for me. I feel so bad for thinkin’ it now. Everyone thought Mammar Joe were me mam when I were little, coz she used to take me everywhere. She’s more like me mam than me mam. It’s nice havin’ a young Mammar coz it means she’ll be around for ages. Me mam too. We can all get old together.
I don’t really have any grandads. Gaz don’t speak to ’is dad. He were the same as Gaz by the sounds of it, worse actually. Gaz took me to see ’im once, but that’s the only time I’ve met ’im. Me mam’s dad left Mammar Joe when she were pregnant. We don’t know owt about ’im. Mammar Joe won’t talk about it. Mam always sez Mammar Joe don’t know who he is. She asked ’er once, she went, “Ya can tell me, ya know, if ya went to a party or summat – it was the sixties.” Which made me laugh coz I’m pretty sure Mammar Joe wun’t do owt like that. She seemed dead upset, so Mam dropped it.
But it makes ya wonder, don’t it? They did all sorts back then, by the sounds of it. Mammar Joe sez that if it had bin the earlier sixties they might have tried to take Mam away from ’er, coz she worra single mam an’ that. That’s what they did back then, they sent ’em to be adopted. Mam sez people used to look down their nose at ’er in the eighties, coz she worra teenage single mum too, but they din’t take people’s babies away by then. In fact, they gave ’er a council house.
I love Mammar Joe, but I can’t stay here. I can’t even go to the shop for a pint of milk. There’s always a gang of lads hangin’ round near the shop, right outside the doorway. If I try an’ go in, one of ’em’ll stick out a leg or summat an’ trip me up. Or shout, “Oi, Byron, ya bender, what ya gerrin from the shop? A carrot to stick up yer arse?” Well, I’m not Byron the Bender when I’m in Nottingham. An’ there are people who actually respect me an’ think I’m good. So why would I wanna stay round here?
D’ya know how I know I love Max? Like, really, really love ’im? Coz if he asked me to go to Spain with ’im tomorrow, I’d go. I’d still go. I’d just fly out there, lik
e that. An’ I don’t even wanna live abroad, I love it here. It’s called Great Britain for a reason. I don’t get why people are always sayin’ how much they hate this country. In other countries, ya have wars an’ freak weather an’ there’s no NHS. But it don’t matter coz he’s not askin’ me to move, is he? I cried mysen to sleep last night, thinkin’ about what we had. It were like everythin’ were alright when I were with ’im. I just felt like, I dunno, like nowt could hurt me. Like I weren’t bothered about owt. I thought about Gaz an’ all them twats at school, an’ I just hate ’em. They an’t gorra clue how I feel or what’s inside me. They don’t know how much love I’ve got. Max is the only person who understood me, an’ now I’ve lost ’im.
I’ve always felt like I’ve had this light inside of me, that other people are tryna put out. I know it sounds corny, but I don’t know how else to explain it. But the thing is, it’s ma job to protect this light. So I can’t let ’em win. I can’t let ’em extinguish it. But more than that, I can’t ruin things for mysen. Peter sez I’m ma own worst enemy an’ I hate ’im for always bein’ right, but he is. An’ I am. I’ve brought most ma problems on mysen, if I’m honest, but I don’t know how to stop. Which makes me so mad, coz I know there’s summat better for me out there, that I were meant for more than this. I come home with a bad report from school once an’ Gaz were so angry, he kept goin’, “Ya could piss this if ya wanted. An’ yer wastin’ yer brains. I want ya to have a better life than I’ve had son.”
Well I wanna better life too. I don’t know worram gonna do, or how I’m gonna do it, but I’m gonna do summat dead good, I just know I am. Coz I’ve got the ability, an’ not everyone has that. So I’m makin’ a promise to mysen now, to succeed, no matter what. I’m gonna prevail. Peter told me that word. It means to win, to prosper, to succeed. An’ that’s worrav gorra do – prevail. I must prevail.
Call on Me
I’ve gorra job in a call centre now. Sticky Nikki works there an’ sez they had a work party the other week an’ put five hundred pounds behind the bar coz they’d had a good month. Apparently there’s a woman who works there who can get ya any drugs ya want, although I’m havin’ a break from all that. But how cool is that? It’s called Robin Hood Resorts. Ya take a page out the phone book an’ call people up an’ get ’em to go to this meetin’ where they try an’ sell ’em timeshare. Ya get a script, it guz, ‘Hello, is that Mr or Mrs Whatsyerface? I’m callin’ from Robin Hood Resorts. Can I confirm your address is –” An’ then ya read it out the phonebook.
It’s called cold-callin’. If they ask ya where ya got the number, ya have to say, “Either you or your partner filled in one of our marketin’ questionnaires in the past two years. Can I ask, have you bin abroad within that timeframe? As that’s the most likely place you provided us with your details.” That’s a trick to find out if they can afford holidays. I’m quite good at sounding posh. Ya have to ask ’em if they’re a homeowner with a household income in excess of forty thousand pounds. Coz if they do that means they’re loaded. It’s so manipulative. What worries me though is that I’m dead good at it, coz I can talk for England, me. I’ve only bin there a week an’ I’ve already set up six meetin’s.
Some people get really mad wi’ ya an’ threaten to call the police, but you’d be amazed how many fall for it. It turns out it’s not just ’ucknall – there’s stupid people all over the country. I’ve bin callin’ an area called Kidderminster. I’d never heard of it before but they’ve gorra dead weird accent, it’s even worse than Notts. I don’t like lyin’ to people though, so I’m always just honest with ’em, even though yer not s’posed to. The meetin’s last about two hours an’ I think they do pressure ’em a bit, but the thing is, if they like travellin’, it is a good deal. Or at least that’s what the manager sez. But it’s gorra be legal, eh? There’s about forty of us in the office, we can’t all be breakin’ the law – can we? I actually feel more guilty about this than havin’ sex for money. At least that’s honest.
If I really click wi’ someone I just tell ’em straight up that I get a commission if they turn up, an’ I could really do wi’ the money. It’s true. An’ people like honesty. It hurts when people shout or hang up, but our team leader Stella sez, “Every no brings ya closer to a yes. Even if only one person in a hundred sez yes, all you’ve gorra do is keep goin’.” Worst case, you ask ninety-nine people, an’ they say no. But what does it matter? Coz when ya get that yes, it’s all worth it. We get paid our bonus whether or not they buy the timeshare. I get ten pounds for every couple that turns up. If ya get ten couples to attend in one week, ya get the biggest bonus the company offers – two hundred pounds. Only one person has achieved that so far so she’s allowed to smoke in the office. The rest of us have to go outside, even when it’s cold.
I’ve told Mammar Joe I’m leavin’ to be closer to work now school’s done. She asked me if I’m a prostitute. I cun’ believe it. I sez, “What makes ya say that?” She sez I’m always leavin’ late, in short skirts, an’ not comin’ back till God knows when. An’ where do I get all ma money. She knows I’ve got cash coz I tried to give ’er some. I told ’er it were ma savin’s, but she din’t believe me. I mean, I guess I am a prostitute technically, but not in the way she thinks. When I go out dressed up an’ meet men, it’s coz I want to. Me an’ Lady Die go on walks sometimes an’ wait for guys to come up to us. Lady Die sez it’s immoral to charge for doin’ summat ya enjoy so much. Well, the stuff I charge for I don’t enjoy, so ma conscience is clear. Mammar Joe don’t know about any o’ that, though. I sez, “I’m gonna move in wi’ Pavash. Don’t be upset.” But she’s worried about me livin’ down town. I’ve told ’er I won’t be doin’ drugs or owt like that no more. Sez I just wanna be closer to college an’ work.
One o’ the saddest things I’ve learned workin’ at Robin Hood Resorts is just how many old people are livin’ on their own. One time I were phoning someone an’ there were no answer, but I just lerrit ring an’ ring coz I were tired an’ cun’ be bothered to dial the next number. But then someone picked up. She sounded dead old – in ’er eighties or summat – an’ I felt awful coz I knew straight away she were no use to me, but I’d already disturbed ’er by that point. “Hang on,” she guz. “Let me lower the television. I can’t hear you.” So I had to wait for ’er to shuffle off an’ come back, knowin’ it worra waste o’ time for both of us. But I cun’ hang up, could I? She said she din’t remember fillin’ in a questionnaire, but she seemed concerned, like she wanted to help. “My husband might have filled it in and put our names on. He died last year.” So I asked ’er how long they’d bin together.
I felt so bad at first, coz I thought, I’m just wastin’ this poor woman’s time. But then I got the feelin’ that she was happy to be talkin’ to me. She told me ’er children don’t visit very often so she spends most nights alone, in ’er chair, watchin’ TV. I asked ’er what ’er favourite programmes was. What she’d had to eat that day. She thought I worra girl. Most people do on the phone. She asked me how old I am, an’ if I’m courtin’. If I’d like to meet a nice man an’ get married one day. Wear a big dress an’ that. I laughed at that. She sez I could go abroad if I got married, me an’ ma husband could go somewhere sunny for our honeymoon. She sez, “Would you like that?” No one could hear us, so I told ’er the truth. I sez, “Yeah, I would. I’d really like that, actually. One day.”
Zombie Nation
I’m makin’ so much money these days. I go out all night an’ sleep all day. Like a vampire. No sneakin’ out any more, though. It turns out Market Square toilets are open twenty-four hours an’ ya can guess what guz on after midnight. I’m quite a hit there, I have to say. So I’m earnin’ at Robin Hood Resorts in the evenin’s, an’ I’m earnin’ at Market Square at night. Smanfa can’t believe some o’ the stuff I tell ’er, she thinks I’m makin’ it up. Ya see, in ’er tiny little world, men’d never go wi’ someone like me. I wish I had a hidden camera sometimes so I could show ’er w
hat they’re really like. Most people don’t wanna know though, coz then they’d have to start questionin’ their own lives. An’ they don’t wanna think it’s their dads, their brothers, their boyfriends. But who do they think’s payin’ all these prostitutes? Santa? Just coz people don’t talk about summat don’t mean it’s not happenin’. It is happenin’. It’s happenin’ all over the place. It’s happening right now.
I’m just lookin’ after mysen these days, fuck everyone else. Wi’ the money I got wi’ Liam, I’ve managed to save up a grand. Now, a thousand pounds really is a lot, innit? Makes Gaz’s two grand seem a bit less impressive, eh? Coz I’m half ’is age an’ I reckon I’m not doin’ too bad. I love the fact I don’t have to speak to ’im any more. I feel like I’ve bin waitin’ ma whole life for this, but I know exactly how long it’s bin, coz I broke the bathroom mirror the day I moved in. An’ I remember thinkin’, That’s seven years’ bad luck, coz I’m dead superstitious, me. I’ve got that off Mammar Joe. She won’t go to bingo without ’er lucky bingo blobber an’ she avoids cracks in the pavement. I have to break eggshells coz of ’er. She sez a witch might sail away in ’em if ya don’t. I don’t know why ’er bingo blobber’s menna be lucky though coz it’s hardly a medieval superstition, is it, bingo, but she swears by it. God knows what she’ll do when it runs out. Probably just lose all the time.
But that mirror set the tone. An’ everythin’ I did from that day forward, includin’ that, were wrong an’ ma fault. I remember thinkin’, It won’t last for ever. But seven years feels like for ever when you’re nine. Part of me actually thought I’d be able to go back to me mam’s at some point. I spent every day for seven years wishin’ I could go back to how things were, wishin’ everythin’ were different. I kinda got used to it in the end, but not really, not in ma heart. It just got worse an’ worse as it became more an’ more obvious that I’m not the firstborn son Gaz wanted me to be. I tried ma best to hide it, but each year felt like I were menna be reachin’ some new level of masculinity, an’ each year I failed harder than the one before.
