Boy Underwater

by Adam Baron

  ‘Buy them a hot chocolate or something. Or, if you like, tell them how a sudden crash in the global oil price coupled with record UK debt and a liquidity collapse means that, by 2 p.m., we are all probably going to be out of a [MAN CITY WORD] job!’

  Uncle Chris pulled his wallet out and thrust a bundle of notes into the girl’s hand, before running over to an office on the far side of the room.

  The girl stared at the money and then at us, before Billy said, ‘I don’t like hot chocolate.’

  I said, ‘Have you got a toothbrush?’

  ‘What’s liquidity?’ Veronique asked.

  She found out over the next hour. We went out to some sofas near the lift and the young woman – Alisha – made a call. Five minutes later a load of food was delivered. There were croissants, chocolate croissants and swirly raisin things, as well as two hot chocolates and three orange juices. Billy and I tucked in and briefly I thought of Lance, who would have picked out the raisins because he hates them. I pushed any thought of HIM aside, though, and offered one to Veronique, though she wasn’t interested. She really did want to know about liquidity, though Alisha wasn’t sure about telling her.

  ‘How old are you, sweetheart?’

  ‘Nine.’

  ‘Then I’m not really sure you’d –’

  ‘Try me,’ insisted Veronique.

  Alisha did, as Billy and I stuffed ourselves, and I stared through the glass into the big room. The door was shut and no sound came out and the people waving their arms about looked like dying insects. Meanwhile, Veronique was deep in conversation with Alisha, whose eyes were going wide as Veronique asked her questions.

  ‘And how is LIBOR affected by a fiscal stimulus?’

  ‘Er … that depends on the OBR.’

  ‘Is that a football team?’ I said.

  Alisha didn’t answer. Instead she went to fetch a flipchart, which she drew graphs on for Veronique. Billy and I had finished our croissants and were getting bored, so Billy got out his mobile phone (I know – in Year 4!). We played Minecraft and it felt weird because Veronique was right – I hated Billy. Or … did I? Being at the Tate with him had been okay. And it was okay now. He showed me some things I didn’t know on Minecraft and agreed with my suggestions for a fort. I saw that his eye wasn’t a purple or green eye now, but a light yellow one. I finally asked him how he got it, though instead of answering he squinted at me.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ he said.

  I felt anything but lucky right then. ‘How?’

  ‘You just are. I’ve always been jealous of you.’

  ‘Of me?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Is that why you pick on me?’

  Billy didn’t answer. He just looked a bit ashamed and offered me the phone, but I didn’t look down at it because Uncle Chris came flying in. Not to see us, though. He was shouting into his phone again and when the lift came up the person he was shouting at came out. Again they sort of carried on before putting their phones away and Uncle Chris stopped shouting. The other man, however, did not.

  This man was older than Uncle Chris. He had a very red face and an enormous stomach. His shouting was so loud that when Billy glanced at me I knew what he was thinking: this guy’s worse than Mrs Johnson.

  ‘You’ve destroyed our entire firm!’ he shouted, before shoving the door to the big room open. I thought Uncle Chris was going to follow but instead he just stood there in a daze. He stared at the door to the big room and I thought he would pull himself together and go in. But he didn’t. Instead he began to sort of collapse on himself, slumping into a chair in front of us. And then we watched in pure amazement as, very carefully, he set his phone down on the floor in front of him and stamped it to bits with his heels.

  Alisha gave a light gasp. We all stared at Uncle Chris with our eyes wide open. Nobody spoke until Veronique said, ‘Were you selling short?’

  Uncle Chris didn’t answer, so I turned to Veronique.

  ‘Selling shorts?’

  ‘No. Short. Singular.’

  ‘Right. Is that just one leg?’

  ‘Nooo. Cymbeline, your Uncle Chris takes people’s money and promises to buy parts of other people’s companies with it. Okay?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘These parts are called shares. When he does actually buy them he’ll make money if the price has gone down since he promised. It’s like hoping someone comes last on sports day.’

  ‘So what’s gone wrong then?’

  ‘It doesn’t work.’

  ‘Like I’ve been trying to tell them,’ Alisha said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s too risky. If the price goes up and not down you still have to buy them. And you lose money. You might be all right a few times but you’re bound to be caught out, especially if your short positions are not predicted by general economic conditions. It’s made worse if you post too much margin.’

  What Veronique was on about I had NO idea, but I stared at the man opposite, who now had his head in his hands. Tears were streaming down his face.

  ‘Did you post too much margin, Uncle Chris?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Uncle Chris stared up at me and nodded very slowly. He looked ashamed, like Gary Talbot when Miss Phillips asked him in front of the whole class if he’d taken Vi Delap’s Match Attax out of her tray. Then he started crying even more and we all watched until Veronique did that hiss thing she does when she thinks people are being thick.

  ‘So why don’t you revert the short to a long position?’

  ‘What?’ said Alisha.

  ‘Revert to long by flipping his investment model.’

  ‘I’ve never heard that phrase.’

  ‘I just made it up. But if he’s been betting – wrongly – on who is going to lose at sports day, why not bet on the person you think will win? If share prices fall, a bold flip to a long stance on a percentage of the same stock should claw back most of his losses. Or have I got something wrong?’

  ‘But my clients don’t do that,’ Uncle Chris said.

  ‘Then you need to persuade them to or else they’re going to lose their money, aren’t they?’

  ‘But how can I? My boss. He’s hanging me out to dry.’

  ‘You have to stand up to him, mate,’ Billy said. ‘Don’t let him push you around.’

  ‘But my reputation. I’ve been selling short. How can I push for reversion?’

  ‘Here,’ said Veronique, handing Uncle Chris some paper from the flipchart. ‘I’ve drawn this out for you. Tell them to take long positions until you reach the percentage written there, and then you can go back to being evil, can’t you?’

  Veronique didn’t get an answer to her question. Instead Uncle Chris just grabbed the paper, stared at it, and sprinted back into the big room. He left the door open and we heard shouting. Louder shouting. Shouting that sounded like arguey shouting. But then it sounded like excited shouting and after a while it sounded like just-scored-a-goal-against-Rotherham shouting and Uncle Chris came running back out.

  ‘You beauties!’ he shouted, before rushing back inside to more shouting.

  It was good to see Uncle Chris happy again. Veronique got on with her croissants and we went back to Minecraft until Uncle Chris came out yet again (after more shouting). And he was grinning. He stared at Veronique before turning to look at Alisha.

  ‘You’re promoted.’

  ‘To what?’

  ‘My old job.’

  ‘Your old …? What’s your new job?’

  ‘I’m the boss!’ Uncle Chris shouted.

  At that moment the older man with the red face who had shouted a lot at Uncle Chris came out with his tie hanging open. It was his turn to look like he was in a daze. He stared Uncle Chris in the face and then stumbled off towards the lift as loads more people from the big room came surging out, patting Uncle Chris on the back and asking him questions. Uncle Chris tried to calm them down, pushing them back into the big room, but before he went in himself he said,
‘You guys. Tell Alisha what you want. Anything.’

  Billy put his hand up. ‘Ice cream?’

  ‘Bucket-loads. Veronique?’

  ‘Will she explain what ‘securitisation’ is?’

  ‘Just ask her. Absolutely. And you, Cymbo?’ Uncle Chris beamed, hanging on the doorframe. ‘What can we get you, my super nephew?’

  A thousand images flashed through my mind but there was only one thing I wanted.

  ‘Can we go to Welling?’ I said.

  Alisha waved at a taxi outside the building and it stopped in front of us. It took quite a while to get to Welling, during which time she did tell Veronique what securitisation is (and, if you want to know yourself, ask her). When Veronique started asking questions, Alisha asked if she wanted to work in the City when she grew up.

  ‘No way!’ Veronique said, as the taxi pulled up at a red light.

  Alisha looked offended. ‘Oh. And why not?’

  ‘Because an obsession with money drives you off the road to happiness.’

  ‘Does it? And what is that?’

  ‘Love, silly.’

  ‘Yes. Of course. You do need money, though.’

  ‘Agreed. And having a lot is okay. If.’

  ‘If what?’

  ‘It doesn’t push you off the road to happiness.’

  ‘Which is love. I see. But, well, how will I know if that’s happening?’

  ‘Easy, though most people don’t know. Which is why they’re unhappy. It’s when the only people you find yourself loving, or even wanting to love, are people with a lot of money. Understand?’

  Alisha did, so much so that after staring at Veronique for a second she pulled a notebook out of her bag and wrote that down.

  ‘Can I come to see you sometimes? For a chat?’

  Veronique said that would be fine, though with fencing, swimming, piano and language classes it would have to be on Saturday mornings. Before ten. Alisha wrote that down too.

  Veronique and Alisha carried on chatting while I stared out of the window. When I saw the Greggs I directed the taxi driver down the side streets and he pulled up at the gates to the park. I was SO excited. I was here. Finally. I got out and started walking, Alisha asking what, exactly, we were doing.

  ‘Do you live near here?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Is there a playground then or something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well then, why have we –’

  But I was too fired up to listen to any more. I ran right through the park, jumping up to press the buzzer on the heavy blue door.

  And this is what happened.

  Almost immediately the door clicked. I pushed it open, not even waiting for Alisha and the others, just sprinting up to the desk and asking if I could see my mum.

  ‘Janet Igloo,’ I explained, when the woman looked confused. Why she was confused I didn’t know because it was the same one as last time and she must have known who my mum was. I expected her to ask me to wait while she called the doctor, but she didn’t. She just looked even more confused, until she said,

  ‘But she’s not here.’

  ‘She’s not …?’

  ‘Here,’ the woman said, reaching to pick up the phone as she stared at me.

  At that moment Alisha hurried in with Veronique and Billy, wanting to know what was happening. Why were we here? The nurse was on the phone and so I told her. Everything just tumbled out – how I’d never been swimming and how Billy had challenged me to a race. How he’d pushed me in and how Mum had gone mad, then my waking up without Mum and coming to see her in here. Finding her paintings, not knowing what they meant. I even told her about Lance, and the Tate. Alisha went quiet as I spoke and so did Veronique, and Billy went quiet too. I was embarrassed at saying it all in front of him, but he didn’t laugh. That was weird – were we friends now?

  ‘And she’s not here?’ Alisha asked the nurse.

  ‘She discharged herself,’ the nurse replied. ‘This morning.’

  This was the second time that Mum had vanished, but it was completely different from the first time when I’d woken up with Uncle Bill there. That was terrible but this was the opposite – if she’d left the hospital it could only mean one thing: she was better! She was probably at our house, right now, wondering where I was! I grabbed Alisha’s hand and tried to pull her out of the hospital, desperate to put everything I’d just told her behind me. Things could go back to the way they were before. Me and Mum, living together, being us. I didn’t need to go swimming and I didn’t care what her ‘thing’ about it was, as Veronique put it. I just wanted her back. But at that moment the tall doctor came out of the far door – Dr Mara.

  ‘Cymbeline,’ he said with his big deep voice. ‘You’re … here?’

  ‘It’s okay, I don’t need the toilet. Mum’s out now.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It was before I came on shift. I would definitely have advised against that … But has she spoken to you? Has she told you anything?’

  ‘No. I haven’t spoken to her. We’ve been helping my uncle keep his [CHELSEA WORD] job. I need to go and see her.’

  ‘Right,’ said Dr Mara, though he didn’t sound too certain. ‘When you do see her, you must ask her to give me a call. Please remember to do that, okay? “Call Dr Mara.” It’s extremely important. I’ve left messages for your Uncle Bill too but I haven’t heard back from him. Please get him to call me as soon as possible.’

  I didn’t waste time explaining that Uncle Bill was away. I had to get out of there! I just said yes, I would, and then I dragged Alisha towards the exit. We got a taxi on the high street (after buying sausage rolls from the Greggs). We all piled in but Veronique said it wasn’t fair: she’d been told what securitisation was and I’d got to go to Welling but Billy hadn’t had his ice cream. Billy said it didn’t matter, if we were going to see my mum. I thanked him, blushing a bit and thinking about Lance. Billy and I were … well, we were friends now, as weird as that sounds. I felt guilty for making judgements about him and it made me realise that the bit you actually see of a person is like the ears on the hippos on the Discovery Channel. There’s much more underneath. This was true of Billy, and also of Lance. So if Billy was my friend now, was Lance going to be like Billy used to be? The answer was yes – after what he’d said about Mum I couldn’t see any way I could be friends with him again, and he probably felt the same way after I’d punched him. I swallowed to think of how we’d be at school now, but I pushed that away because I was so psyched up about Mum, and when the taxi stopped on our street I leapt out as soon as the door clicked open.

  ‘Mum!’ I yelled, banging on the door. ‘It’s me! Mum!’

  There was no answer. I sighed, wishing I had my bag with my keys. Was she asleep? She’d be tired, especially if she still had some of her headache. I banged on the door again but Alisha put her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘She doesn’t think you’re here, does she?’

  I blinked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I mean, you wouldn’t be living here on your own, would you? So I mean, where does she think you’ve been staying?’

  I hadn’t thought of that. ‘Auntie Mill’s!’ I said.

  The taxi was just turning round and Alisha managed to make it stop again. We got back in. I told the driver where to go, getting really annoyed at all the traffic near the new roundabout in Lewisham. When we finally got past it I had this image. Mum would be in the big living room. I’d run round and she’d slide the glass door open, crouching down to my level, her arms opening out to me. I had a brief worry that she wouldn’t be able to get in if Auntie Mill was still working on her backhand, but when we got there I saw Uncle Chris’s car in the drive – which meant he was back. We all jumped out of the taxi – again – and I dodged round to the side of the house, stopping when I got to the big doors at the back.

  I was so desperate to see Mum now, and not just to be with her. Her being away had made me realise things. Hard things. The biggest was that life was
n’t quite as I’d always thought it was. All the things around me were, in some way, different. Mum, Auntie Mill, Juni and Clay, Lance and Billy. They were much more complicated than I’d ever known, made up of lots more ingredients than I’d thought, like when you look on the back of a cake and see the E numbers. And I didn’t want them to be. I wanted things to be how they were, or at least for me to still see them like that, even if they weren’t. Mum’s being gone had torn this huge hole in the world around me and I’d been forced to look through it. I didn’t want to look through it. I wanted Mum to stand in the way. I wanted to see her, not the world, and I wanted that more than anything.

  But Mum didn’t rush out to meet me. As I pulled the door open and stepped in I scoured the room to find her – but she wasn’t there. I shook my head because where else could she be? Uncle Bill was away, so she can’t have thought I’d be staying there. At the school perhaps? Trying to pick me up? No. She would have known it was an Inset Day. So was she buying my birthday present? If so, I didn’t want her to be. As unbelievable as it might sound, I didn’t care one bit about that. I didn’t want anything, only her. I stood there thinking that of course Auntie Mill would know where she was. When Mum came out of the hospital she would have called her, wouldn’t she? Even if they didn’t get on that well, Mum would want to find me, and I was staying there.

  But where was Auntie Mill? I couldn’t see her. There was definitely something strange about that because she was always there. She was like the sofa or the TV; I’d never been there without her. And as I began to notice the room properly – not just Mum and Auntie Mill not being in it – I saw that the others were acting weird. Juni and Clay were sitting at the table but they weren’t arguing or on their phones as usual.

  They were crying.

  Juni was really crying and Clay was crying too. Alisha, Billy and Veronique arrived as I stared at Juni and Clay, almost unable to take that in. Then I turned to the other end of the room, where Uncle Chris had the phone in his hand. His jaw was trembling and his chest was heaving up and down, and I heard him say, ‘Please. Just call me back. You have to call me back. Let’s talk about this. Someone called Zac? I mean, are you serious? Really? Just call me back or, better still, come home. Please come home, Mill.’