by Alex Wheatle
Table of Contents
___________________
Chapter One: Trading Places
Chapter Two: A New Hope
Chapter Three: Bathroom Issues
Chapter Four: Morning Rush
Chapter Five: A New Collection
Chapter Six: The PRU
Chapter Seven: Tony’s Violin Story
Chapter Eight: Ancient Disco
Chapter Nine: The Hamiltons
Chapter Ten: The Shark in Louise's Knickers
Chapter Eleven: Shortbread and Shortcomings
Chapter Twelve: A French Master Class
Chapter Thirteen: The Corner Shop Scam
Chapter Fourteen: Mutton and Milton
Chapter Fifteen: Racially Correct
Chapter Sixteen: Biggin Spires
Chapter Seventeen: A Heavy Piece of Guilt
Chapter Eighteen: Casino Ashburton
Acknowledgments
About Alex Wheatle
Copyright & Credits
About Akashic Books
I would like to dedicate this book to all children in care,
care leavers, and those who may have found shelter,
a place to rest their head but not necessarily a home.
chapter one
Trading Places
“He’s a perv!” I yelled. I fixed my seat belt while switching the car radio to a grime station. I knew she hated that. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Louise looked at me like she wanted to give me a koof. But she couldn’t. She was my social wanker. She had issues starting the car. Her hands shook. “He says he was only standing outside the bathroom with your towel,” she said.
“Every time I step into the bathroom he’s pedophiling around,” I spat. “Have I got my shampoo? Have I got my bubble bath? Have I got my soap? Does he think I’m dumb enough to step into the bathroom without my tings? I’m telling you he’s a perv with a big prick P!”
Louise finally started the engine. She sucked in a nervous breath. She always did that when I dropped curses on her bony behind. “He . . . he says he was only trying to help,” she stuttered.
“Jack up your ears, Louise! He’s not helping me. I know the mission he’s on. I can bring my own stuff to the bathroom.”
Winding down her window, Louise blazed a fagarette. She pulled on it like she wanted to kill it with one drag. She looked out to the street. A hood-slug wearing a black hoodie walked a pit bull. She pulled away. This was the east ends of Ashburton where even the hounds peeped over their shoulders and paused before stepping around corners. I watched Louise puff her smoke out the window. By the angle of her brows I guessed she wanted to be at home sinking red wine and watching a Bridget Jones movie. She screwed up her face.
“Can I have one?” I asked.
“No!”
“Why not? You know I fire up anyway.”
“You’re not smoking while you’re with me.”
“And you’re not supposed to be blazing in the ride with me.”
Louise pulled on her cancer stick once more. She then blew out the window and stubbed it out. She placed the remaining half in her glove compartment.
At my feet was my banged-up cuddly meerkat toy. Its mouth was lengthened by a tear, one claw was missing on the left paw, and one eye was looser than the other. I picked it up and placed it on my lap. I stroked it twice and smiled at it.
Memories.
I threw Louise an evil eye-pass. Lily Allen’s “Smile”crackled from the car radio. No bass. Louise turned down the volume. I turned it back up even louder. Louise knew she was gonna lose this game. She gave me one of those really glances and shook her head.
“Where’re you taking me?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Don’t know? The moon’s showing her dimples. Some social worker you are.”
“Playing little Miss Madam everywhere I take you doesn’t help. I’m fast running out of options.”
“Not my fault you always place me with freaks and prick fiddlers.”
“The Holmans have been fostering children in Ashburton for over twenty years. They’re very dependable. No one has ever made a complaint about them before . . . until this evening.”
“All the other kids must’ve been too scared to spill something,” I said. “She was always trying to hug me. What’s that about? Always up in my face she was with her welcome-to-The-X-Factor smile.” An image of my mum bust an entry into my head. I remembered her smile. I tried to erase it but I couldn’t. “Is everything all right, Naomi?” I took the piss. “Monkey on marbles! I lost count of how many times she asked me that. She made the hairs on my arms wanna leave me. And then him! Kim warned me about bad-minded men like him. Anything you want, Naomi, sweetheart. Just ask. I knew what he wanted. If he got any closer I would’ve clanged him with the biggest no-entry sign I could find.”
“Are you sure of that, Naomi?” Louise asked. “They were only trying to be friendly. And I’ve told you before, you shouldn’t listen to everything Kim says.”
Even then Louise didn’t believe me. Her casserole didn’t have any dumplings. What do I have to do to make this woman see the pig in the sky?
“The other day I was watching Titanic,” I said. “I always leak tears when I watch that part when Leo sinks into the sea. She comes over and hugs me like I agreed to be her Surrey Gate mum. I told her if she pollutes my personal space again I’m gonna clong her with a casserole pot when she’s sleeping. When I finish with her she’ll still be seeing tweety birds when she’s having her varicose veins done. I’m telling ya, Louise, they’ve got something of asylum ward twenty-one about ’em.”
Louise kept quiet. Maybe the truth finally slapped her sensible spot.
“I’m hungry,” I said. I wasn’t lying. My stomach snorted. “Where’re you taking me? And I don’t wanna go to no Alabama Chicken Cottage or Mississippi Hen Hut. Their chicken is off-key.”
Louise didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the road. Ten minutes later, she pulled into the car park of a McD’s restaurant on the Ashburton ring road. She took out a five-pound note from her purse. I liberated it from her, picked up my meerkat, and was gone before Louise could say the N of Naomi. I looked back when I reached the McD’s entrance. Louise shook her head, took out her mobile phone from her handbag, and punched a number. She retrieved her half-smoked cigarette from the glove compartment, sparked it, and looked out the window.
* * *
I had just sunk the last morsel of a cheese quarter-pounder when Louise parked her slim butt opposite me. She looked like she had joined in on one of those charity fun-runs but her fitness wasn’t up to spec. “Your man not coming around tonight?” I asked.
“Leave it, Naomi.”
“He might be cheating on ya, goring someone else.”
“Naomi!”
“If that was me I’d churn his balls with one of those food-blitzer things when he’s sleeping.”
Through a straw I sucked my chocolate milkshake trying to roadblock a giggle. I couldn’t quite manage it. A spattering of chocolate spewed out over the table and over Louise’s brown leather jacket. A passing black teenage girl carrying a tray of burgers and fries laughed out loud. I put my drink down and wiped my mouth and nose with the back of my hand. Louise’s eyebrows switched forty-five degrees and something funny happened to her lips. She was on the edge of the cliff wearing five-inch-high stilettos. I might’ve gone too far.
“Sorry,” I said.
Louise huffed and puffed to the counter. She returned moments later with a handful of napkins and a coffee. I had wiped the table clean. I leaned back into my seat with my meerkat squashed between my arms and stomach.
Louise groped for her phone in her jeans pocket. She closed her eyes and took in t
wo mega breaths. She scoped me hard. “Would you mind staying for a week or two with a black family?” she suggested. “I was thinking of this second-generation British, West Indian family. It’s not ideal but it won’t be for long. Just until I can place you somewhere more suitable.”
“A black family?” Monkey on ball bearings. What’s she on?
“Yes,” Louise nodded. “As I said, only for a short while. They’re very good. And you’ve got black friends you get on very well with.”
I shrugged. This is new. It could be interesting. “I s’pose. As long as they’re not too hugalicious or prick fiddlers.”
Louise jabbed her mobile. I watched her every move. She picked up her coffee and walked out of the restaurant. She kept an eye on me through the window. What’s the frucking point? She’s gonna give me the lowdown anyway.
I hot-toed outside to join her. Louise turned her back on me.
“Put it on speaker,” I urged.
Louise ignored me.
“It’s about me, right? Put it on speaker.”
Louise did what she was told.
“Hello? Hello, Colleen, it’s Louise. Thank God you’re in.”
“Hi, Louise. Everything good with you?”
“Not exactly. I’m in a spot.”
“Oh, what’s up?”
“Can you do me a big favor? I have tried everybody else and I’m fast running out of options. I know it’s late in the day but I really need your help.”
“It’s after eight so—”
“I have an emergency case,” Louise interrupted. “I really need an emergency foster carer for the next two weeks or so until I can find somewhere permanent.”
“Two weeks is no problem. I’ll just clean up our spare bedroom. I haven’t used it for a while. Anything about the case I need to know? I’m not having you shove any self-harmers our way without you telling us. That last case really scared the kids. Tony had to give the bedroom walls a new coat of paint.”
Louise offered me a worried glance; I made a face at her.
“No, nothing like that,” Louise replied. “Well, er, there’s something but we’ll talk about it when I arrive. That last case, I didn’t even know she was a self-harmer. It wasn’t on her file and she didn’t have any scars on her arms.”
“You should’ve looked at her legs.”
“I know that now. I’m so sorry, my mistake.”
“Who’s loving razor blades?” I wanted to know. “Is it Taneka Taylor who used to be at the unit? Her life was always on a detour.”
Louise covered her phone with her hand. “Not now, Naomi.”
“So how do you know this emergency case isn’t a self-harmer?” Colleen wanted confirmation.
“I have known the case for a while.”
“I’m not a fricking case,” I raised my voice. “I’ve got a name. Naomi Brisset.”
Louise side-eyed me. She was back on the edge of the cliff.
“How old?” asked Colleen.
“Fourteen.” Louise eye-drilled me. “Going on twenty-
nine,” she resumed. “There’s something you should know.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“She’s Caucasian. Normally I wouldn’t . . .”
What the fruck is Caucasian? Why’s Louise talking all foreign all of a sudden?
I gave Louise one of my best what the freak are you talking about glares. Silence for ten seconds.
“Can I call you back in a minute, Colleen?” said Louise. “I won’t be long.”
Louise spotlit me for five seconds without leaking a word. Her eyes were desperate. “So, are you really okay staying with a black family? It’s either that or the secure unit. I’d rather you stay with a foster family—”
“I’m not going back to the secure unit!” I squeezed my meerkat close to my stomach. “Can’t stand the staff there. Hate ’em.”
“Do you really hate them, Naomi? You were a bit tearful when you left.”
“That’s cos I was leaving Kim and Nats. They’re my best friends.”
“Hmmm.” Louise was never sweet on Kim and Nats. “So what do you think about staying with a black family? It wouldn’t be for long.”
“They got kids?” I asked.
“Yes, they have.”
“How old?”
“Sharyna’s ten and Pablo’s six. They were adopted. They used to be in the care system.”
“You were their social worker?”
“Yes. Please give me an answer, Naomi. I haven’t got all night.”
“Wanna wheel home before your boyfriend gets pissed on waiting for ya and hits on someone else?”
“Naomi!”
I thought about it. A black family. They’ll definitely be cooler than the Holmans. They might let me blaze a rocket. The mum might be able to put plaits in my hair like Solange Knowles. They could get my dancing on point. Might learn some top-ranking insults like those black chicks at my last school.
I smiled. “Yeah. I’m good to play this game.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you accusing me of not listening to your opinion before a placement again.”
She was right on that one.
“I suppose so,” I said. “Unless you wanna give me my own place. I’ll be good on my lonesome. Dunno why you’re always munching your knickers about it when I bring it up. When I’m fifteen I’ll meet a sweet bruv and we can make a life—”
Louise had her really face back on.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Naomi?” she said. “You’re a minor. The local council are responsible for you until you reach eighteen.”
“They didn’t call me a minor when I looked after my dad!”
Shaking her head, Louise stepped away. She jabbed the redial button on her phone. “Hello, it’s Louise again.”
It was still on speaker.
“Hi again, Louise.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Colleen, but I have two emergency foster carers on holiday and another who’s about to give birth. It’s not a problem that my case is Caucasian, is it? Her name’s Naomi. Naomi Brisset.”
“Naomi,” repeated Colleen. “Nice name.”
I curled a grin. Of course it’s a nice name. My mum gave me it.
“Tell her I was named after Naomi Watts,” I said. “She was in King Kong and a horror movie.”
Louise ignored me. “Will Tony be all right with, er, you know?” she asked.
“Course,” Colleen replied. “Won’t bother him at all. He’ll be cool.”
“You sure?” Louise pressed again. “It’s just that Tony has always made a point about wanting to foster black children.”
“He wants to help all kids,” Colleen insisted.
“Okay, Colleen.” Louise breathed out relief. “We’ll be around in half an hour or so.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Colleen said. “Any dietary requirements I should know about? Remember last year? You sent us that kid who wouldn’t eat rice, potatoes, meat, or anything with seasoning in it.”
“Naomi’s not fussy about her food. I have her file with me.”
“I don’t like mince,” I called out. “Reminds me of worms. No shepherd’s pie either. Oh, and I don’t like macaroni cheese. That reminds me of yellow worms.”
Louise offered me a seal your gums glare.
“Looking forward to meeting her,” said Colleen after a pause.
We returned to McD’s. Louise sipped on her coffee and sank into her seat. “Seems like Colleen’s looking forward to meeting you,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t she?” I grinned. “I’m lovable.”
I hugged my meerkat tight.
chapter two
A New Hope
We burned rubber along the Ashburton circular. I stared out the car window looking at road signs. Monk’s Orchard, Spenge-on-Leaf, Crongton, Notre Dame, Cranerley, Smeckenham. We turned off at the Shrublands exit. I thought about my dad. I wondered what he’d think about me staying with a black family. He wouldn�
�t care. After all, he sank liquor with anyone. Once, I had to drag his alcoholic ass out of Lord Jazzbo’s, a cocktail bar that had a samba night on a Thursday, a disco night on a Friday, and a reggae night on a Saturday. They had this speciality drink called Rumwave. Dad loved it. I sampled it once too. It gave me a double-bitch of a hangover the next morning. That was the last liquor I ever had.
We reached Shrublands.
Flowers niced up the roundabouts. Four-by-fours sweetened up the wide roads. Cats slept on fence posts. Hedges were trimmed neatly.
“Black people live here?” I asked.
“Yes, they do,” Louise replied. “The Goldings are a nice family. They’ve done well for themselves.”
“They didn’t make their Gs from selling dragon hip pills, did they?”
“No! They certainly didn’t. And don’t even go there with that one, Naomi.”
“All right,” I said. “Just jokes.”
“I hope it’s just jokes, Naomi.”
Louise’s eyebrows had hardened. I could tell she was getting proper frustrated at the whole deal.
“It won’t be too long you’ll be staying here so just bear with me,” she said. “I can’t have you there for too long anyway. The council machine will have me flying through hoops and asking me to fill in a million forms for that to happen.”
“Who’s in the council machine when they block the toilets?” I wanted to know.
Louise shook her head. “You don’t want to know,” she replied.
We pulled up outside this pretty house. The front lawn was well shaved. The white front door had gold numbers nailed into it. Twenty-three. Louise jabbed the doorbell. I can’t lie, my insides quaked. I took a few steps back. Here we go again.
The door opened. This neat-looking black woman appeared. Mid to late thirty-ish. I liked her peacock-colored earrings.
“Good to see you again,” said Colleen. “Please come in. Just boiled the kettle.”
At first, I kinda liked the idea of staying with a black family. But now I wasn’t feeling too sure.
“Naomi!” called Louise.
I stood on the spot studying Colleen for a long second before shuffling slowly toward the door. She had shoulder-length brown dreadlocks. Oh, good. Might be able to listen to some original dancehall tunes. She waved us into the house busting a grin. “What do you want to drink?” she asked. “Hot chocolate? Orange or apple juice? Coke? You hungry?”
