He was almost at Charlie’s Cafe now. Just as he was about to turn right onto Philip Lane, Mack saw a small procession walking towards him in the middle of the street. A woman at the head of the procession was talking through a loudspeaker as the group came forward. Mack was tempted to ignore it, to hurry towards Charlie’s, but something held him back. He stopped for a moment to watch. There were about ten or twelve of them, mostly black middle-aged women. They were moving slowly - like a funeral cortege - up the High Road, through the fallen bricks and debris. As the procession drew nearer, Mack listened to the elderly woman who was talking through the loudspeaker.
“Fresh food and water supplies are coming today. Listen carefully. FRESH. SUPPLIES. From one o’clock this afternoon, stock up on food, water, medicine and whatever else you need. Come to Tottenham Police Station! Queue outside for supplies. People of Tottenham – One o’clock. FRESH SUPPLIES! FRESH SUPPLIES!”
Mack thought about the people standing outside the police station. And he remembered the children with the hungry eyes.
One of the women in the procession noticed him and walked towards him. She was a small and portly black woman, forty or fifty-something years of age, and dressed in a faded denim jacket and dark jeans.
She looked at Mack with a kindly smile.
“Do you need food and supplies son?” she asked. Her accent had a hint of the Caribbean. She held out a small sheet of paper and offered it to him. “Here’s some information about the supply drops outside the police station. There’s one today at one o’clock.” She thrust the slip of paper closer. “Go on. Take it.”
Mack reached out, but quickly withdrew his hand again.
“I’m okay thanks,” he said. “My dad’s got a car and he’s making a food run into Central London this morning. You should give this to somebody else.”
The woman put the sheet back on top of the pile.
“I wish we were all so lucky,” she said, smiling. “To have a car.”
Mack nodded “No shops still open around here?” he said.
The woman shook her head. “No shops,” she said. “Everything’s been destroyed and if it hasn’t, it’s closed anyway. The buses aren’t running around here either – the roads aren’t up to much as you’ve probably noticed.”
Mack couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a bus in Tottenham. Cars were becoming something of a rarity too.
“Charlie’s is still open,” the woman said, pointing down Philip Lane towards the cafe. “But not for much longer. It’s overrun with people and there’s no way Charlie will be able to keep up.”
“People can still use the Tube can’t they?” Mack asked.
She nodded. “Yes, but you can only imagine how crowded it is. All those people trying to get in and out of Central London. It’s like rush hour every hour. And I’ll tell you this – they’re raising the prices in the city centre too. They don’t care how many children are starving out here on the outskirts. Not when there’s a chance to make money.”
The woman looked over at the procession, slowly making its way north.
“Better catch up,” she said. She smiled at Mack and her eyes lit up. “Goodbye son,” she said. “And good luck.”
“Thanks,” Mack said, calling after her. And then in a whisper, he added:
“I’m sorry.”
There was a massive queue outside Charlie’s. The line began at the door and stretched further down Philip Lane. There was probably over a hundred people at that moment, tucked into the side of the pavement, all searching for a hot meal. To Mack, it looked like a group of bargain hunters standing outside a department store waiting for the Boxing Day sales to begin.
A small blackboard had been placed outside the door. Scribbled in white chalk were the words: WAITING TIME – 1HR APPROX
Shite.
Sumo Dave and the others were inside waiting for him.
Mack walked towards the door and glanced through the window but the place was jam-packed and it was impossible to see beyond the mass of bodies gathered by the window.
As he took a step back, he noticed dirty looks coming his way.
“Don’t think about skipping the line sunshine,” somebody called out. “I’ve got my eye on you.”
Mack took a step away from the building. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and found a text waiting from Sumo Dave.
‘Fckn rammed in here m8. Waited 45min to get in! Txt wen u get here.’
Mack sent a brief reply – ‘Here. Stuck outside.’
A few minutes passed. Nothing happened. Mack was thinking about leaving when the cafe door opened and Sumo Dave popped his head outside. He pointed at Mack.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you the lad who hasn’t eaten for two days?”
Mack looked behind him.
“What?” he said.
Sumo Dave beckoned him over. And this time he spoke louder so that the others in the queue could hear him too.
“Charlie sent me out,” Sumo Dave said. “He told me there’s a little white boy outside who hasn’t eaten in two days. Is that you mate?”
Mack didn’t answer.
Sumo Dave nodded. “Yeah that’s you, innit? Remember?”
“Yeah,” Mack said. “I suppose…”
He looked at the queue. Everyone was staring at him.
“But I didn’t want to jump the queue,” he said. “That’s not fair on these people. We’re all hungry.”
“Of course,” Sumo Dave said. “That’s very noble of you, especially with your cancer n’ all. You didn’t want to jump the queue.”
At the front of the queue, a tall black man, dressed in a slim leather jacket, turned to Mack. “Is that true?” he said. “You got cancer?”
Mack took a step forward. “I’m okay,” he said. “I want to join the queue like everyone else. We’ve got to try and keep civilised, haven’t we?”
“He was definitely acting a bit funny when he got here,” somebody else said. “It was like he didn’t know where he was.”
Mack coughed.
“So pale and pasty,” Sumo Dave said. “Poor lad.”
“Get inside son,” the man at the head of the queue said. He turned to Sumo Dave. “Get some hot food into the lad. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”
“C’mon mate,” Sumo Dave said. He stepped onto the pavement and took Mack by the arm, guiding him towards the door. “Thanks everyone,” he said.
Mack managed a feeble wave.
Once inside, Sumo Dave dropped Mack’s arm. “You overdid it a bit there mate,” he said. “You’ll get us lynched if they find out.”
Mack shrugged. “You started it ya prick.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Sumo Dave said. “C’mon, we don’t have long in here. Charlie’s rule is you eat, get out and make room for the next lot.”
Mack looked around the cafe. All the tables were full, but that didn’t mean they were turning back customers. There were people sitting in a huddle on the floor. Others were tucked up on the window-ledge. Some people were content simply to stand with a plate of food in their hand. For most people, it was enough just to be in there.
The room was full of chatter, and the scent of freshly cooked bacon hung in the air.
Sumo Dave led Mack past the counter where the staff were working at a ferocious pace – cooking fry-ups and making toasted sandwiches as if their lives depended on it.
Hatchet and Tegz were waiting in the far corner of the room. As Mack arrived, they were devouring a plate of toasted sandwiches between them.
Tegz acknowledged Mack’s arrival with a curt nod.
Hatchet kept eating.
Behind them, fixed to the wall, a large TV was on. It was showing a chat show with a bunch of women sitting around a table drinking tea and talking. Of course, they were talking about the riots.
“Alright?” Mack said to the others.
“Fucking starving mate,” Tegz said, through a mouthful of food.
Mack nodded. “You guys been o
ut since Croydon?” he said.
“Yeah,” Sumo Dave replied.
“Where?” Mack asked. “Back to Croydon?”
Sumo Dave shook his head. “No way mate,” he said. “You saw it. It’s a bloody war zone innit? Nah, we stayed here on the High Road.”
“Any action?” Mack asked.
Sumo Dave shrugged. “It’s alright.”
“Yeah,” Tegz said.
“Just the usual,” Sumo Dave said. “You know, standing in a crowd squaring off with the riot police, that sort of thing.”
“That it?” Mack said.
“A few running battles,” Sumo Dave said. “Missiles and all that.”
Sumo Dave lifted a can of Coke off the table and brought it to his lips. At the same time, Mack looked up at the TV in the corner. Sadie Hobbs, the reality TV star, was a guest on the talk show. They were still talking about the riots.
INTERVIEWER: Sadie, isn’t it fair to say that there are genuine underlying reasons behind the riots? Social issues? Class issues? Government failings?
SADIE HOBBS: C’mon – these little rats are using anything to try and justify their actions. Are we really supposed to believe that they’re targeting JD Sports because they think that JD Sports use child labour to produce their shoes? How do they know that then? They’re desperately trying to justify their devious little criminal minds by telling us that the riots are noble. Yet they’ve still gone after small businesses and independent retailers, which means it’s got nothing to do with major companies and exposing exploitation. They’re reaching for explanations that will justify the greed and violence.
Sumo Dave looked up at the TV screen. “Talentless bitch,” he said. “Everywhere I look it’s Sadie fucking Hobbs this and that.”
“Yeah,” Tegz said.
“Seen the army yet?” Mack said.
“The army,” Sumo Dave said. “What are the soldiers going to do, eh? Nah they’re probably in Croydon or Brixton, standing around looking pretty in their uniforms.”
Mack nodded. “There’s a crowd outside the police station too,” he said. “People waiting for food.”
Sumo Dave sighed. “Yeah I saw it. Poor buggers.”
“You hear that Hatch?” Tegz said, wiping the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s free grub outside the cop shop later.”
Hatchet nodded. “Yeah, that’ll do me,” he said. “Can’t see my mum getting off her arse to go shopping anytime soon. Not unless the vodka runs out in the flat.”
“Fuck off,” Mack said. “There’s people starving out there and you’re in here stuffing your fat fucking face with toasties. You don’t need the supply vans anymore than I do.”
Mack’s heart began to race. He’d never spoken to Hatchet like that. Had anyone?
Hatchet straightened himself up. His broad shoulders expanded, like he’d just pushed a button, and his doll eyes glared across the table.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he said.
Mack felt the hormones surging through his body.
Fight or flight?
The easiest thing to do would be to look away. Just back down. But something bigger took a hold of Mack and in that moment, against all rational thinking, he forced himself to stand tall, staring back at Hatchet and meeting his eye.
“Fuck you Harold,” he said. “I’m not scared of you.”
Harold was Hatchet’s real name. Sumo Dave had once told Mack how much Hatchet hated it and that nobody - nobody - was allowed to say it to him on the street. Not without serious consequences. Only Hatchet’s mum called him Harold and nobody ever saw her anyway.
Hatchet’s entire body twitched, as if on the brink of a spasm. “What?”
Tegz instinctively backed off. Sumo Dave hovered on the outskirts of the confrontation, like a boxing referee about to stop a fight.
“Easy boys,” he said.
Mack kept his eyes on Hatchet. “You’ve got a problem with me man,” he said to Hatchet. “You’ve had a problem with me since the start. Want to tell me something?”
Hatchet took a step forward. So did Mack. Now they were standing face-to-face. And even though Hatchet was built like a brick shithouse, Mack still saw the uncertainty lingering in his eyes.
Typical fucking bullyboy. Somebody stands up to you and you don’t know what to do.
“Tough guy, eh?” Hatchet growled. His upper lip was raised, on the brink of forming a snarl.
Mack shook his head.
“You’re right Hatchet,” he said. “What do I know about being a tough guy? If I was a tough guy I’d have come back from Croydon with a pint of dried blood stuck to my hands.”
Tegz flinched in the background.
“Did you guys hear about the old man who died in Croydon that night?” Mack said. “The war hero. What was his name? Coggins, wasn’t it?”
Hatchet’s face drained of all colour. He took a backwards step, as if some unseen force was getting him out of there.
“Aye,” Mack said. “I heard all about it.”
For a moment, nobody spoke. There was only the constant chatter of other customers, as well as the high-pitched scratching sound of steel forks on plates.
And from the TV above their heads, came the voice of Sadie Hobbs.
Sadie Hobbs: We need to get serious. And I am serious about this problem that’s out there RIGHT NOW infesting our streets. The only way to deter these little crooks is to scare them out of their wits. And the good people of this country – and by that I mean the REAL good and honest citizens – do you hear that Chester George or whatever your name is? The real citizens need to get serious about fixing this mess. If our government are too soft to do it then let’s do it ourselves. Let’s DO IT. Let’s rise up, take to the streets and make a stand against these vermin. There are more of us than there are of them. It’s either that or we watch our city fall into the hands of a minority of degenerates. And here’s another solution that no one else will bring up. What about lynch mobs? If lynch mobs were to make an appearance on the streets of London and target these criminals, then I guarantee you we’d see the back of this problem in a matter of hours. HOURS! But we’re too soft for that. Aren’t we Britain?
“FUCK YOU!”
Hatchet barged past Mack on his way towards the door. The impact of one of those thick shoulders was enough to send Mack staggering back a step or two.
Tegz turned around, watching Hatchet storm out the door. Then he turned back to the others.
“I’d better go after him,” he said quietly. “Somebody better calm him down, eh?”
“Yeah,” Sumo Dave said. “You do that. Text me later, alright?”
Tegz nodded. He turned and walked slowly towards the door. As he left, another person who’d been waiting in the queue outside entered the cafe.
“You alright?” Sumo Dave said to Mack. “You’re looking a bit white mate. And I don’t mean that in a racist way or nothing.”
Mack tried to speak but no words came out. The adrenaline dump was over and his brain was trying to re-establish a connection with the rest of his body. He could feel his entire body shaking from head to toe, just as it had done the last time he’d had a much worse confrontation back in Edinburgh. Different city, different bully, but thank God, this time a different outcome.
“That was close,” Sumo Dave said. He lowered his voice. “Listen mate, Hatchet is NOT a bloke you want to piss off. Remember the gun thing, yeah? And he’s a nutter.”
Mack nodded.
“And he won’t forget something like that in a hurry,” Sumo Dave said. “You embarrassed him. So just watch out, yeah? Even if he acts cool next time you see him, he’ll still be looking for a way to hurt you mate.”
Mack shrugged. “He’s hardly going to shoot me, is he?”
“Probably not, but Hatchet’s a pyscho. Worth bearing in mind.”
“Hatchet’s a dick,” Mack said. “We both know what he did the other night, don’t we?”
Sumo Dave s
ighed. “He’s just a fucked up kid mate. I’ve known Hatch all me life. I remember his dad - he was a nutcase too, a proper bloody gangster.”
“The old boy bugger off did he?”
“Yeah,” Sumo Dave said. “His dad wasn’t half as violent as his mum though, the crazy old witch.”
“They sound like a nice family,” Mack said. “So where’s his dad now?”
Sumo Dave shrugged. “I dunno. He disappeared when Hatchet was a little kid. Dead probably. Lying at the bottom of the river or buried in cement somewhere. That messed his mum up proper good that did. When he left. She hit the bottle big time but at least she’s too drunk most of the time to be violent, eh? Silver linings and all that.”
“So that’s why he hates me?” Mack said. “Cos I don’t have shitty parents?”
“Cos you had a chance. You weren’t born in this shithole. You probably won’t stay here forever, like the rest of us. You’ve got a chance mate.”
Mack sighed. “Chance of a good life?”
“Yeah,” Sumo Dave said, looking around. “Something better than this. You’re a smart lad. You’ll finish school, go to uni and travel the world and all that stuff. Things that are beyond the likes of us.”
Mack looked at Sumo Dave. “I’m not the angel you think I am mate. In fact, come to think of it, I’m a lot like Hatchet.”
Sumo Dave raised his eyebrows. “Eh?”
“I fucked up once.”
“What do you mean?”
“Back in Edinburgh. I hurt someone.”
“What like, hurt their feelings?”
Mack shook his head impatiently. “I hurt somebody Sumo.”
“Like…?”
Mack hesitated. “I stabbed a boy.”
Sumo Dave’s jaw dropped.
“You?” he said.
Mack nodded. “I’m no better than Hatchet. Or anyone.”
Sumo Dave urged him on. “Don’t just stand there. What happened?”
Mack sighed. “I ran with a bad crowd,” he said. “Ever since I started secondary school, I ran with the wrong people.”
“Story of my life,” Sumo Dave said, smiling.
The Future of London Box Set Page 12
