by Janet Pywell
‘It was incredible. It had the precision of a ballet,’ I say, and they all turn to look at me.
Sandra smiles. ‘I agree. It was beautiful to watch them.’
‘So, when are you filming next?’ Peter asks.
Sandra replies, ‘It will be back in London – Islington. Some of the crew left earlier to set up, and we’ll join them tomorrow. We’re on the early flight.’
‘I was hoping to have a more detailed chat with some of the Parks.’ I look at Matt. ‘But the filming days have been so long, and they’re exhausted by the evening.’
‘Time will be tight in the morning. We’re also on the early flight; perhaps you could speak to them tonight?’
‘Or back in London?’ asks Peter. ‘The flight was full, so we’re on the later flight tomorrow.’
Matt nods. ‘Of course. Come to Dixon House.’
‘I loved watching them today,’ I reply. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d like to film it all again.’
‘We can let you have some footage for your documentary,’ Sandra says. ‘Keith can arrange it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How did you get these kids involved in this film?’ Peter asks Matt.
‘Keith introduced me to Sandra, and it seemed like such a good idea to get them over here. It is, after all, an action movie.’
‘You’re brave to make action movies,’ I say.
Sandra shakes her head. ‘It’s a male territory, but that won’t stop me.’
‘Not enough women are directors,’ Keith interjects. ‘But then, not many women are like Sandra, either.’
‘How did you meet Matt?’ I ask Keith, but neither of them meets my gaze, and it’s Matt who replies eventually.
‘We met a while back at a mutual friend’s party.’ He stands up. ‘I guess if you want to speak to these kids, you should do it now …’
Keith agrees, ‘Yeah, they’ll probably want an early night.’
* * *
I move with Matt and Peter to sit with the Parks. We’ve already explained that we’d like to make a documentary about their skills, and Matt arranged all the legal permissions with their guardians.
‘Do you want to film us tonight?’ Joe asks.
‘Are you getting a taste for being interviewed?’ Monika replies with a laugh.
‘Would you mind?’ I ask.
‘Nah, I don’t mind.’ Ali grins, and I notice again his pox-damaged skin and hurt eyes. The excitement of filming on location, as well as buying the leather flying jacket that he proudly wears, has loosened his tongue. He holds court, responding to my questions, for our documentary film.
I use my iPhone to record some of the conversation and video their reactions, but I’m careful not to intimidate them.
They speak comfortably about their talent and their skills, but then I turn the conversation to try and make it more personal.
‘Do you think training in parkour helped you escape from the difficulties on the street?’ I ask.
‘Difficulties?’ Ali frowns.
‘Drugs, gangs, poverty …?’ I reply slowly. It’s the first time that I’ve been able to broach the subject of their past, and it’s a risk I know I have to take. Tonight is possibly our last chance to address the topic.
‘My brother’s been smoking crack for fifteen years. He’s not thirty, but he looks almost forty.’ Ali rubs his nose with the back of his wrist.
‘Crack cocaine?’ I ask, and he nods gravely.
‘Once you start, you can’t stop till your money’s gone.’ Ali’s eyes, ringed with dark circles, are now severe and unblinking. So different from the teenager who I went shopping with yesterday.
‘Where is he now?’
Ali shrugs. ‘I dunno. I haven’t seen him for a while. He had to disappear …’
‘That must be frightening,’ I say softly. ‘Do you know where?’
‘No. It’s best not to ask—’
‘It’s not the drugs,’ says a thin, pasty-faced boy called Adam, who rarely speaks. His light-blue eyes are eerily translucent. ‘It’s the gangs.’
‘Drugs are evil, but the gangs trap you,’ agrees Monika.
She looks barely sixteen. Her afro hair, now scraped back and tied in bunches on her head, makes her cheekbones appear sharp under her thin face.
‘They train you into getting your own gang. You go to a place and find a crackhead, give him some stuff, and get him to give your number to his friends – other users. That way, you build up a client list.’
‘My sister is twelve, and they tried to recruit her.’ Joe scratches his crew cut. ‘She wasn’t happy at school, she started playing truant, but I wouldn’t let her join them. I made her go to my auntie’s house in Reading.’
‘Do you know who “they” are?’
‘Nah. You don’t want to get involved with them. They’re not good people.’ Ali pauses and looks around at his friends. ‘We’re gonna stick together. Matt helps us, and we’re gonna look out for each other.’
‘You all live in London?’ I ask.
Ali raises his glass and gulps his orange juice quickly before saying, ‘Yeah, but I don’t know what we’ll do now – you know, in the long term, once this is over.’
‘We’ll think of something,’ Matt replies. ‘You’re safe with me. We’re going to carry on with our training, our parkour, and then we’ll see …’
‘Are you frightened of the gangs?’ I ask, but it’s Matt who replies on their behalf.
‘Of course, everyone is frightened, Mikky. You’ve got to be careful. But I’ve lived through it all and I managed to stay alive and come out the other side, just as these kids are doing. Once I got clean, I was determined to help others, but it’s not enough just to get the kids away from the area and place them with a foster family. We’ve got to offer them more. They need a future where they belong – a job, money, security, and more importantly, somewhere they feel safe.’
‘My foster family didn’t want me to leave,’ Ali says. ‘I was safe with them.’
‘Did you have to leave them?’ Peter asks, as I video Ali’s face.
‘My mum wants me back home.’
‘Where’s home?’ Peter asks.
‘Brentwood.’
‘But your mum’s an addict,’ Monika says to Ali, clearly concerned at the thought of him going back to her.
Ali frowns. ‘It’s not her fault.’
‘But she’s gotta get clean,’ says Joe. ‘You won’t be able to do nothing until she wants to help herself.’
‘I thought you were going to live with your dad,’ says Monika.
‘I stay with him sometimes, but he works nights on the trains.’
‘Does he make you feel safe?’ I ask.
Ali grins at the camera, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
‘Nah. He’s never there. He doesn’t want me with him really. He walked out on me and Mum when I was four. She started taking drugs, and that’s when I was put into care.’
Lisa leans forward, across the table, nearer to me, and when she speaks, she has a lisp.
‘You can film me if you like.’ Then she turns to Ali. ‘You were lucky. My foster mother doesn’t like me. I think sometimes she hates me, but she gets paid good money to look after me.’
‘And does she look after you?’ I ask, as I film Lisa.
Lisa shrugs. ‘She doesn’t hit me, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Is she kind?’ I insist.
‘She’s alright, she’s happy I’m doing this – she wants me to get into the movies, so I make good money.’
‘She wants you to get famous.’ Joe’s eyes are serious. ‘She wants you to be a rich actress.’
‘Yeah, she says she’d move to Hollywood with me.’ Lisa grins.
Joe sniggers.
‘Do you want to work in films?’ I ask Joe.
He’s Albanian; watchful and serious.
‘Nah. Parkour is what we do. We’re the Parks.’ He bangs the table with his fists.
>
Monika sniggers and covers her full mouth shyly, with the back of her hand.
‘We belong together,’ he adds.
‘It’s like the army, isn’t it, Peter?’ Matt says. ‘You know, where you all look out for one another.’
‘Army?’ asks Ali, looking at Peter.
Matt explains, ‘Peter was in the SAS. He went to Afghanistan.’
There are gasps and nods of approval, while I contemplate the level of conversation that Matt and Peter must have had over the past few days.
‘You’re a war hero?’ asks Lisa.
‘No, I’m not a hero.’ Peter smiles, and I see the young kids looking at him for the first time, taking in his dark hair and short beard.
‘You limp,’ says Monika.
‘What happened to your leg?’ asks Ali.
‘A roadside bomb in Afghanistan blew off my foot and some of my fingers.’
‘Wow!’ says Monica, covering her mouth. ‘That’s serious shit!’
‘Yeah.’ Peter grins.
‘Ignore him. He is a hero,’ I say, smiling.
Peter looks embarrassed.
‘Look, this isn’t about me. This documentary is about you guys. You’re a good bunch of people. That’s why we want to make this film. It’s about you. And, you’re right, you just have to stick together. Matt’s right, too; it’s about taking care of each other.’
‘We’ll stay together. We’re training all the time, and we’re getting better.’ Joe nods seriously.
‘I’m gonna buy new trainers with the money we got for making this film,’ Ali says. ‘They’re over a hundred quid.’
‘I’m getting a hoodie,’ says Joe.
‘You should get a jacket like mine,’ Ali says.
‘I wanna get a new iPhone,’ Monika says with a grin.
‘Did you earn that much?’ Peter asks in surprise.
‘Yeah, it’s decent money, and they paid for our flight—’
‘And this posh hotel—’
‘I’m getting new trainers, too,’ adds Joe.
‘Has this been a good experience for you?’ I ask, looking around at their excited faces.
Joe nods. His eyes are like shining lumps of coal.
‘I’d never been away before. It was my first time on a plane – I want to be a pilot.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I love flying.’
‘I want to be a nurse,’ says Monika. ‘I’m going to look it all up when I get home.’
Joe teases her, ‘You said this morning that you want to be an actress like the one in the film.’
Monika thumps his arm.
‘Leave her alone, Joe. She’s alright – nursing is good,’ Ali says.
Joe laughs and bangs the table with his fist, and repeats it as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard.
‘A nurse!’
Monika looks affronted, but she says, ‘There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind.’
‘And what about you?’ I ask the quiet, dark-haired girl Lisa.
She’s leaning her head on her arm, listening to everyone.
‘I’m seventeen,’ she replies.
‘What do you want to be?’
‘I don’t know. Who would want me?’
‘What would you like to do?’ I ask gently.
‘I think I want to be a teacher.’
‘That’s a fantastic idea.’ I smile.
Peter asks, ‘And what about you, Ali, what do you want to do?’
He straightens up and pushes out his chest.
‘I’m going to work with Matt. I’m going to be a policeman.’ He looks around smiling, looking for their approval.
They smile, but only Joe laughs aloud and bangs the table.
‘A policeman!’
‘And you?’ I ask Adam, the pasty-faced boy with the light-blue eyes, who has remained silent and watchful for most of the time, but he ignores me and continues to stare silently at something invisible on top of the table.
* * *
‘Do you want to film us some more?’ Monika asks, nodding at my idle iPhone on the table.
‘Maybe another time?’
‘I don’t mind.’ Ali smiles. ‘I can show you some parkour steps.’
I grin. ‘Thanks, but no!’
‘I do.’ Joe looks at me. ‘I don’t like being filmed.’
‘That’s why I want to talk to you, and get to know you. I think that’s more important, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Joe smiles, but his tooth at the front is brown and rotten.
‘I like your tattoo – this is really cool.’ Monika trails her finger along my forearm. ‘It’s like a work of art.’
‘It is Edvard Munch’s The Scream – it’s a famous painting, do you know it?’
She shakes her head.
‘Mikky’s an artist,’ Peter says. ‘Her body is a complete work of art.’
‘Are you two married?’ Lisa asks.
‘No, we’re not. Peter is married to a lovely Polish lady, and they have a three-month-old baby called Zofia.’
‘Really?’ Monika smiles at him.
Peter takes out his iPhone, and Monika leans closer to look at the baby pictures.
‘Do you have any tattoos?’ I look at Ali.
‘Yeah, look!’
Ali raises the sleeve of his T-shirt to reveal an Aztec design.
‘I’m getting a serpent, like Matt’s, next month – right across here.’ He points to his shoulder and the back of his neck.
Matt shakes his head and laughs. ‘We’ll talk about this back in London.’
Joe lifts his trouser leg to reveal a picture of Taylor Swift tattooed on his calf. ‘I’m getting another one,’ he adds, ‘on my back.’
‘How many tattoos have you all got then?’ I challenge, then I sit back and watch as they count.
‘Seven,’ says Ali.
‘Five,’ says Joe.
‘Three,’ says Monika.
‘None.’ Lisa shakes her head. ‘I don’t like them.’
‘And you, Adam?’ I ask.
But Adam turns away and shrugs, as if he’s suddenly not interested in our conversation. Still, I want to keep him involved, so I say, ‘Would you believe me if I told you I’ve got the severed head of John the Baptist across my breasts and chest, and Salomé’s seven veils wrapped around my waist? I’ve also got a painting of the Last Supper and the Garden of Eden …’
Adam glances up to look at my breasts and then gazes suddenly back at the invisible spot on the table.
‘Can I see them?’ asks Monika.
I laugh. ‘Not this evening, but maybe another time we can all share our body artwork?’ I glance around at them all.
‘Why are all yours religious?’ she asks.
‘I had a tough time growing up, pretty much like you all. I was adopted, but my parents didn’t want me.’
‘So, your birth mum gave you away; then your parents didn’t want you either?’ Ali clarifies my situation.
‘That’s how it was.’
‘That’s a bitch,’ he says.
‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘See this scar?’ I point to the ragged skin on the back of my hand. ‘My mum tried to slash my face, but I lifted my hands just in time.’
There are gasps, and I demonstrate, by covering my face with my hands, and the table falls silent.
‘That’s sad,’ says Monika. Her eyes look pained and she takes my hand. ‘But you’re just like us, Mikky. You’ve had a rough time, too. You’re damaged.’
‘Yeah,’ I say quietly. ‘That’s why I want to make this documentary. It’s important to tell people what we’ve been through so that it doesn’t keep happening. We all want a better life for ourselves and our kids, don’t we?’
* * *
Some of the crew members leave the long dining table and Ali jumps up; within minutes, the Parks are all sitting at another table, nearer the bar, with a deck of cards between them.
As I walk to the bar with Peter, Monika is perched on t
he arm of Ali’s chair. She’s trying to give him advice but he pulls away, shielding his cards, laughing good-naturedly.
At the piano bar, my mood has turned sombre.
‘It’s the haunted expression in their eyes when they’re reminded of their lives in London,’ I say to Sandra. ‘They’re too young to have gone through so much.’
‘I agree with you, Mikky. It’s unfortunate. That’s why you must make this documentary,’ she replies.
We’re distracted when Joe slaps down his cards and bangs the table before raising his arm in mock triumph.
‘This is helping them,’ Matt says, sipping a beer. ‘It’s been good for them. It’s giving them a sense of value – a sense of belonging.’
‘We will use them in London …’ Keith says, nodding knowingly at Sandra, and she smiles back.
‘We can talk about it on the flight in the morning, Matt,’ Sandra says. ‘We’ll work something out. We’re aiming to use one of the high-rise buildings in Islington, but we need the right permissions first.’
‘Raymond Harris might help,’ suggests Matt. ‘He’s been invaluable to us at the Dixon Trust.’
‘The politician?’ asks Peter.
‘Yes, he’s our local councillor.’
‘That’s who we are working with,’ Sandra replies. ‘Isn’t it, Keith? He’s been very accommodating, liaising with the council and the local residents.’
‘Isn’t Raymond Harris standing in the local election next month?’ asks Peter. I glance at him in surprise. He’s clearly been doing some background homework.
Matt nods, and I imagine how his life has changed from once being a criminal to now being a valuable carer of these kids.
‘Yes, without him on our side, I don’t know what we’d do. He’s been instrumental in helping us. I started a Trust – the Dixon Trust – four years ago. It provides a place where we can keep these kids safe. The problem is, these kids are innocent, but drugs gang members have groomed them, and sometimes it’s been over a long time.’ He shakes his head. ‘They pick on the troubled kids. Some of them are loners, others have been abused, or they are from broken homes; some – like Adam – are probably even autistic.’
‘Adam didn’t speak to us when we were chatting earlier,’ I say.
‘It’s normal, Mikky. Don’t take it personally. Some of them are really troubled and on the spectrum. It takes them a long time to confide in or to trust anyone.’
