Black Rabbit Summer

by Kevin Brooks

  ‘It’s up there,’ Raymond said, pointing up the bank.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘There… you cut through those brambles over there –’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘There, by that tree stump.’

  I couldn’t even see any tree stump. It was getting on for nine thirty now and the sun was starting to go down. It wasn’t really dark yet, and the air was still hot and sticky, but the light in the lane was beginning to fade to a dim and shadowy blur.

  ‘He’s right,’ Pauly said, muscling in between Raymond and me. ‘It’s there, look.’ He pointed up at the bank. ‘You go round the back of that stump, then along that little ridge and up through the brambles –’

  ‘Shut up, Pauly,’ I said.

  He gave me his hurt-little-boy look. ‘I’m only trying to help.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘Pauly Gilpin – Mr Fucking Helpful.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means you’re bad,’ Raymond said.

  We both looked at him.

  ‘Bad?’ Pauly grinned. ‘You mean baad like Michael Jackson?’

  Raymond couldn’t help smiling then, and that was all the encouragement Pauly needed. He put down his carrier bag and started dancing around, singing loudly in a stupid American accent: ‘Your butt is maaan, gonna take you raaaght… shit!’

  Raymond laughed as Pauly moonwalked into the bank and fell over, and I found myself smiling too. I didn’t want to, but it was pretty funny.

  That was the thing about Pauly – no matter what you thought of him, no matter how much you wanted to hate him, he could always redeem himself by making you laugh. But I knew it was all part of his act. Make them laugh, make them smile, make them forget about everything else…

  I looked at him now, rolling around on his back, wiggling his arms and legs in the air, whooping and shrieking like Michael Jackson in pain.

  ‘Come on, Raymond,’ I said, stepping up on to the bank. ‘Let’s go.’

  Four

  We used to have dens all over the place – down by the river, along the lane into town, in the little woods at the back of the old factory car park. Most of them were pretty ramshackle things – a few wooden boards jammed into the ground, a couple of old pallets stuck between a gap in some trees. Sometimes we’d fix it all together with bits of old rope or something, maybe throw some plastic sheeting over the top… but they weren’t really made to last. We’d just pick up whatever we could find, stick it all together, and that was that.

  But the den in Back Lane was different. I can’t remember why we decided to put so much effort into it – I expect we were probably just bored and didn’t have anything else to do – but I know that it took days to build. It was really hard work – finding exactly the right spot, scouring the old factory for building materials (old doors, corrugated metal, rusty nails), lugging it all back to the top of the bank, fixing it all together, plugging the gaps between the walls, covering the outside with branches and brambles… we even gave it a little door and a skylight in the roof. And when it was all finished, it was amazing. Hidden away at the top of the bank, but not too close to the factory fence, it was virtually invisible. Even when you were standing right in front of it, it was hard to tell it was there. And once you got inside, it was almost like being in a proper little room. It wasn’t huge or anything, but it was just about high enough to walk around in without having to stoop too much, and there was easily enough room for the five of us to slouch around on the floor, which is mostly what we did. The floor wasn’t really a floor, but we’d cleared the ground, and we’d stamped it down, and after we’d slouched around on it for a couple of weeks, it was almost as hard as concrete.

  We spent most of that summer in the Back Lane den. Hot summer days, rainy days, shadowy evenings and candlelit nights. We just about lived in there. God knows what we did all day – all I can remember is sitting around talking, making stupid plans, messing around…

  Messing around.

  Yeah, there was that. There was all kinds of messing around.

  And the den parties, of course. We had lots of den parties that summer. Steamy nights, stolen cigarettes and bottles of booze, getting drunk, getting sick, getting overexcited…

  Me and Nicole.

  Breathless in the candlelight…

  Kids’ stuff.

  ‘What?’ said Raymond.

  We’d reached the top of the bank now, and I’d kind of forgotten Raymond was there. I also hadn’t realized that I’d been thinking out loud.

  ‘Sorry?’ I said to him, pausing for breath.

  ‘I thought you said something.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just now.’

  I shook my head. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  Raymond looked at me for a moment, smiling secretly to himself, then he turned his head and gazed across at a suddenly familiar-looking patch of ground over to our left.

  ‘There it is,’ he said.

  In the greying light, I could see the overgrown brambles spreading out over the roof of the den, and beneath the brambles I could just make out the faded blue paint on the boards of the roof. The skylight – a cracked old window pane, fixed with bent nails over a hole in the roof – was still intact.

  ‘It looks all right, doesn’t it?’ I said to Raymond.

  He smiled at me. ‘I told you it’d still be here.’

  ‘Yeah, you did.’

  I glanced over my shoulder and looked down the bank at Pauly. He was scrambling up behind us, breathing hard and cursing at the brambles.

  I looked back at Raymond. ‘Do you want to wait for him?’

  ‘No.’

  We walked over to the den and stopped in front of the door.

  ‘After you,’ I said to Raymond.

  ‘No, after you,’ he smiled, waving me forward.

  I paused for a moment, breathing in the hot thundery air, then I stooped down and opened the door.

  ‘Hey, Pete.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  Nicole laughed. ‘Who do you think?’

  ‘Christ,’ I said, edging my way inside, ‘I can hardly see in here.’

  ‘Let me in,’ Raymond said from behind me.

  ‘Hold on.’

  I took a step forward.

  ‘Shit!’ Eric cried out. ‘That’s my foot!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  As I stepped to one side, I cracked my head on the roof – ‘Shit!’ – and then Raymond stumbled into me, almost knocking me over, and I stepped on Eric’s foot again.

  ‘Christ, Boland! What are you doing?’

  ‘It was Raymond –’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Raymond said.

  Then Pauly bulldozed his way through the door behind us – ‘Watch out! I’m coming in!’ – and he tripped over something – ‘Fuck!’ – crashing into Raymond, and Raymond crashed into me, and I toppled over and almost landed in Nicole’s lap.

  ‘Watch it!’ she cried.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Pauly. ‘Why’s it so dark in here?’

  ‘It’s the night,’ Eric said drily. ‘The lack of sunlight.’

  Raymond laughed.

  Pauly shoved him.

  Raymond bumped into me again.

  ‘Keep still, for Christ’s sake!’ I yelled, nearly losing my balance again.

  ‘Why don’t you all just shut up and sit down?’ Nicole suggested.

  It was a good idea.

  Once we’d all settled down and made ourselves comfortable, everything started to calm down a bit. It was pretty cramped in there, and it took us a while to sort ourselves out (so that we weren’t sitting too close to each other, or kicking each other’s feet), but we got there eventually. I’m not sure if I did it on purpose, but I ended up sitting next to Nicole. She was on my right, sitting against the far wall. Raymond was on my left. And Eric and Pauly were sitting opposite me.

  The air inside the den was hot and sticky, and i
t smelled kind of earthy and raw – a heady mixture of brambles, sweat, warm breaths, and skin.

  ‘Anyone remember to bring a candle?’ Eric said.

  We all looked at each other, shaking our heads, then Raymond reached into his pocket and pulled out two white candles. As Eric clapped his hands – ‘Well done, Ray’ – Raymond lit one of the candles and placed it on the ground.

  ‘It’s vanilla,’ he said to no one in particular.

  As the candle flickered, lighting up the gloom, I gazed around the den. The walls were leaning in a bit, and there were a few stray bramble stems creeping in through gaps in the roof, but apart from that it seemed in pretty good order.

  ‘It’s a lot smaller than I remembered,’ I said, gazing up at the roof.

  ‘Maybe it shrank in the rain,’ said Nicole.

  I looked at her.

  She smiled. ‘Of course, it could just be that we’re all a bit bigger now.’

  ‘A bit bigger?’ Pauly said, leering at Nic.

  ‘Piss off, Pauly,’ she told him.

  He grinned.

  Pauly was always saying stuff like that – crass, jokey, sexy kind of stuff – and I knew it wasn’t worth bothering about. It was just him being stupid. Mr Funny Guy. But it did bother me. Not because I thought it was wrong or insensitive or sexist or anything, but simply because I was thinking pretty much the same thing myself. Nicole did seem to have grown quite a lot… and I couldn’t quite understand it. I mean, it was only just over three weeks since I’d last seen her, and although we didn’t hang around together any more, I still saw her at school pretty much every day. But somehow she just looked so different now – older, fuller, sexier. I knew it was probably just her make-up and everything – darkened eyes, reddened lips – and the way she was dressed – low-rise jeans, a flimsy little cropped white vest – and the way she’d slicked back her short blonde hair, so she looked kind of icy and hot at the same time…

  ‘Are you all right, Pete?’ she said to me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re staring.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘Who wants a drink?’ Pauly piped up.

  I looked over to see him brandishing a bottle of tequila.

  ‘It’s the special stuff,’ he said, unscrewing the cap and taking a slug. ‘Whooh-hoo!’ he howled, rolling his eyes. ‘Very special indeedy!’

  ‘What’s so special about it?’ Eric asked.

  ‘Here,’ Pauly said, passing him the bottle. ‘Suck it and see.’

  As Eric took a drink, we all started bringing out the bottles we’d brought. It was a pretty varied selection – a bottle of wine, a few cans of Coke, a half-bottle of Bacardi, Pauly’s tequila, Raymond’s bottle of rum.

  ‘What the hell’s that?’ Pauly said, sneering at the grimy little bottle when Raymond brought it out.

  ‘It’s rum,’ Raymond told him.

  ‘It’s half empty.’

  Raymond shrugged, looking embarrassed.

  I glared at Pauly.

  ‘What?’ he said to me.

  Nicole nudged me and passed me the tequila bottle. I carried on staring at Pauly for a moment, telling him silently to lay off Raymond, then I raised the tequila bottle to my lips and took a drink. I’d never drunk tequila before, and at first it tasted pretty good – kind of smoky and sweet and warm. But then, as it seeped down into my throat, I felt the heat of the alcohol burning up inside me, and I started coughing and spluttering.

  ‘Christ!’ I gasped.

  ‘Juicy, eh?’ Pauly grinned.

  ‘Juicy?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he laughed, lighting a cigarette. ‘Joooooseeee!’

  The den party had started.

  As the bottles got passed around, and Pauly started rolling a joint, Nicole began telling us all about Paris – the new house, her dad’s new job, the theatre, the schools, how excited she was…

  ‘What about you?’ I asked Eric as Nic paused for a moment to take the joint off him. ‘Are you looking forward to going?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure if I am going yet. I might stay here for a while.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ he said, glancing at Nic. ‘I just haven’t made up my mind if I want to go or not.’

  ‘What are you going to do if you stay here?’ I asked him.

  ‘I haven’t really thought about it. I might go to college, I might go to college in Paris –’

  ‘Collage,’ Pauly said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s French for college – collage.’

  Eric shook his head. ‘I might do some work in Dad’s theatre.’

  ‘What kind of work?’

  He shrugged. ‘Lighting, stage design… I don’t know. I’ll just see how it goes, I suppose.’

  ‘What about you, Nic?’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘You could sell onions,’ Pauly suggested.

  Nic looked at him. ‘Yeah, that’s a good idea.’

  He grinned.

  Nic passed me the joint. I was already feeling pretty woozy from the drink, so I didn’t smoke much of it – just a couple of quick puffs – then I passed it across to Pauly.

  ‘What about Raymond?’ he said.

  ‘He doesn’t smoke.’

  ‘Why not?’ Pauly offered the joint to Raymond. ‘Come on, Rabbit, enjoy yourself.’

  Raymond looked at me.

  ‘Do you want it?’ I asked him.

  He shook his head.

  ‘He doesn’t want it,’ I told Pauly.

  I could see Pauly thinking about having a laugh with Raymond, trying to persuade him to smoke the joint, and I could see him glancing at me, wondering what I’d do if he did start trying to persuade him… and in the end he just shrugged – who cares? – and gave up.

  Eric smiled at Raymond. ‘How you doing over there, Ray?’

  ‘All right, thanks.’

  ‘Enjoying your rum?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You want some Coke?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Eric passed him a can of Coke. ‘You looking forward to sixth-form college?’

  ‘Who, me?’ Raymond said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I suppose…’ He popped the Coke, took a long drink, then burped, and took another long drink.

  ‘Better?’ said Eric.

  Raymond nodded. ‘It’s hot.’

  Eric smiled again, then looked at me. ‘Are you definitely going then, Pete?’

  ‘To sixth-form college?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I think so… I mean, as long as I get the results I need.’

  ‘What are you going to take?’ Nicole asked me.

  ‘English, Media Studies, and Law.’

  ‘Law?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know… I couldn’t think of anything else.’

  ‘I’m doing Art,’ Raymond said.

  Nic looked at him. ‘You’re crap at Art.’

  He smiled. ‘I know.’

  It was true – Raymond was crap at Art. He couldn’t draw to save his life. He was an absolute genius at everything else – Physics, Maths, English, Chemistry – but for some weird reason he only wanted to study A-level Art.

  Nic nudged me again and offered me the bottle of wine. ‘You want some of this?’

  I looked at her, and just for a moment her face seemed to dissolve into a series of patterns and shapes… triangles, rectangles, bright red lines… and her skin seemed to be rippling with energy. I closed my eyes for a second and shook my head.

  ‘Pete?’ I heard her say.

  When I opened my eyes again, her face was back to normal.

  ‘Shit,’ I said, turning to Pauly. ‘What the hell’s in that joint?’

  ‘Uh?’

  ‘The joint… what is it?’

  He grinned dozily at me, swayi
ng slightly. ‘The joint?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s the juice,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The juju juice,’ he slurred, widening his eyes and taking another swig of tequila.

  ‘He’s out of it already,’ Nic said to me.

  ‘Yeah…’ I looked at her. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  ‘I’m feeling fine,’ she said, putting her hand on my leg and smiling at me. ‘How are you feeling?’

  My head kind of whirled for a moment, and I could feel tiny pinpricks where her hand was touching my leg. ‘I’m feeling pretty good, actually,’ I said. ‘Kind of… what’s the word?’

  ‘Warm?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hot?’

  ‘Velvety,’ I said.

  ‘Velvety?’

  I smiled at her. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What does velvety feel like?’

  ‘I don’t know… like velvet.’

  We started laughing then, giggling away like overexcited kids. Nicole was laughing so much that she lost control and doubled over, clutching her belly, and as her head rolled briefly against my thigh, I felt the weirdest sensation tingling up and down my leg. It was like… God knows. Like gossamer threads brushing against my skin.

  ‘What’s she doing down there, Boland?’ Pauly called out. ‘I mean, come on… get a room, for Christ’s sake!’

  Nicole sat up quickly and glared at him. ‘Why do you always have to be such a twat, Pauly?’

  He grinned at her. ‘Someone’s gotta do it.’

  ‘Yeah, and you’re the expert.’

  Pauly winked at Eric. ‘Your sister thinks I’m a twat.’

  Eric said nothing, just sat there puffing languidly on a cigarette.

  Pauly blinked drunkenly at him. ‘You with anyone tonight?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you with anyone?’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘I don’t know… anyone…’

  Eric just stared at him.

  Pauly blinked again. He had a strange expression on his face – kind of trancey, a bit spaced out – and he didn’t seem to notice that Eric was getting annoyed with him. As Eric shook his head and turned away, Pauly carried on looking at him, grinning like a kid with a secret.