by Blake Jon
“Mum’s died,” I said.
I waited for Kris to open his arms and enfold me, and at that moment, it was all I wanted. But he made no move. He said nothing. His face showed no emotion.
“Kris, my mum …” I repeated. “My mum’s died.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” he replied.
“Well, say something, won’t you?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know … I don’t have to tell you, do I?”
Kris shrugged. “She’s your mum,” he said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Kris shrugged. “It means, she’s your mum,” he said. “She’s not mine.”
I gazed at him in sheer disbelief. “What’s the matter with you?” I said.
“I’m not the one who’s losing it,” replied Kris.
I couldn’t even reply to this. Suddenly the cool I’d always admired looked like something else completely. Kris was sick.
“I want to see Feela,” I said.
“You’ll have to come to the den,” said Kris.
“I want her here!” I cried.
“That would be mad,” said Kris.
“Why?” I said.
“Because they’ll be back, that’s why!” said Kris. “You don’t think they’ve finished with you, do you?”
“But then I’ll never be able to have her back!” I cried.
Kris’s only response was to hand me a map he’d drawn, with some instructions, written in the crude capital letters he always used. “You can come over later,” he said. “Is there anything else?”
Dumbfounded, I shook my head. “See you then,” said Kris. He made his way out and I watched him saunter down the street, hands in pockets, self-contained, a stranger in every way. I was hardly aware that I was standing shoeless, face streaked with tears, in full view of the neighbors. Then I heard my name and turned to see Kira, who lived opposite, rising from the chair she had parked on the pavement.
“Are you all right, love?” she asked.
There was so much concern in Kira’s voice, I was taken totally by surprise. We’d exchanged a few words now and then, and I lent her a bike pump once, but other than that I hardly knew her. But seeing the look of sympathy in her eyes, I just broke down completely. I fell into her arms, too upset to feel embarrassed, and she hugged me tight.
“Is it your mum, love?” she asked.
I nodded, between sobs.
“You poor love,” she said.
“What happened, love?” rasped another voice. It was Rochelle, the woman from number 8, with the deep voice and the bottle-red hair.
“They came in our house …” I sobbed. “They were vile to her …”
“Compers, is it?” said Rochelle.
I nodded.
“They’re bastards,” said Rochelle, in a matter-of-fact way. It suddenly occurred to me that both Rochelle’s boys were tagged.
“Come over and have a beer,” said Kira.
Kira led me over the road and into her house, yelling at one kid not to gawk and another to put the kettle on. We went into the kitchen to be met by a massive Alsatian.
“Hang on, love,” said Kira. “I’ll just get the dog out the back.”
Kira grabbed the huge Alsatian by the collar and bodily dragged it past me towards the back door. “It’s all right,” she said. “It won’t hurt you.”
“Not once it’s had your arm,” rasped Rochelle.
I sat down amongst the toys and computer parts while Rochelle took charge of the fridge, handing me a can I had no intention of drinking. Kira returned and sat beside me.
“I couldn’t believe it when I seen the compers go in your house,” said Kira. “I thought they got the wrong address.”
“They thought we had a cat,” I replied, which was at least true.
“I bloody hope not!” said Kira. “God, I’d wet myself if I thought there was a cat across the road!”
“Even the legal ones scare me,” added Rochelle.
“It was her heart, was it, love?” said Kira, changing the subject. “I know she had a bad heart.”
I was surprised Kira knew this, and wondered how much else she knew. “Yes,” I said.
“Who’s going to look after you now, love?” asked Rochelle.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“Got no relatives?” asked Kira.
“I’ve got a gran,” I replied. “But she’s in a home.”
“No aunts?” asked Rochelle.
“Two,” I replied. “They’re both in Australia.”
“You must have some relatives!” said Kira.
“My dad was an only child,” I replied. “Mum’s got some cousins, but they were never close.”
Rochelle shook her head. “They won’t let you keep the house,” she said. “Not on your own.”
“You’ll be in the warden center,” said Kira. “That’s where they put the strays.” Her hand shot to my shoulder. “Sorry, love,” she added. “It’s just what people call them.”
Kira didn’t have to apologize. At least she didn’t call the center by its other name—Suicide Hall.
To live there would be unthinkable.
“You look tired, love,” said Kira. “Would you like a lie-down?”
I took up the offer. Even though Kira’s place was like Waterloo Station, it was a thousand times better to be with people than alone in that house. Kira made some space in the storeroom, put down some cushions, and gave me a blanket. I thanked her over and over, feeling secretly guilty that I’d hardly talked to her before this day. Maybe the girls at school were right. Maybe I was stuck up.
I began to drift off, but the thought of Mum kept coming back, and every time I felt the same sense of disbelief, the same utter frustration at not being able to talk with her or simply be around her. For all I loved her, what hurt most was knowing I’d lost the one person who loved me, without question, utterly. Again and again the new truth smacked me in the face. I had no mum. I had no one but Feela and a friend who wouldn’t even put an arm around me.
Somehow, however, I must have dropped off, because the next thing I knew, Kira was trying to wake me. “Jade!” she hissed. “Jade, wake up now!”
I pulled myself together. Kira was looking anxious.
“They’re over your house, love,” she said. “You’d better get out of here.”
“Comprot?” I asked, dazed.
Kira nodded. “Must have something on you, love.”
“I’ve got to tell them they’re murderers,” I blathered.
“Just take my advice and get out,” said Kira. “They’ve come to arrest you.”
Vaguely I remembered the plastic bags they’d brought in from the garden. Forensics must have found something.
“Can’t I hide here?” I asked.
“No, love,” said Kira. “They’ll be over here next. We’ll get you out the back.”
I was hurried down the stairs. Rochelle was there with a little day-bag into which they’d stuffed a few things. “You may need these,” she said. Kira chained up the dog and they bundled me into the backyard. At the same time there was a heavy knock at the front door.
“That’s them,” said Kira. “Carl!”
Carl, one of Kira’s nephews, came running with a ladder. He seemed to know the score. The ladder was placed against the end wall, over which Kira yelled, “Josh!”
“Wha’s happenin’?” came the reply.
“Got one coming over, Josh!” cried Kira.
“OK,” came the reply.
“Over you go, love,” said Kira. “Good luck.”
I climbed the ladder—like many before me, obviously—and down another the other side to find myself beside a plastic paddling pool full of toddlers, greeted by a man in a Jamaica football shirt. “This way, petal,” he said, leading me through the house and out onto the next street without another word.
With fumbling hands, I opened the map showing the way to Kris’s den. It was the only place left to
go.
Chapter Nine
I’d never been to the wasteland around the old industrial park. The place had been abandoned years before and there were rumors there was unburied nuclear waste there. It was all fenced off but, as always, kids had found a way in, and evidently so had Kris.
The den was certainly well disguised. From the outside it just looked like a bramble patch in the corner of an old parking lot. Junk was strewn all over it and if you looked hard enough, you could see a car tire buried in the middle. That car tire, according to Kris’s instructions, was actually the front door.
I waded through the brambles and shouted Kris’s name. Sure enough, like a submarine captain, he emerged from his turret and invited me in.
I climbed down a rope-ladder into a concrete tank, lit by a few LED lights. The stink was awful. There were cushions, one small stool, a camping stove, a sleeping bag, and boxes which served as tables and cupboards. Over one corner of the floor there was actually some raffia matting, and there on the matting, looking expectantly upwards, was Feela.
I can’t describe the surge of emotion I felt at seeing her. If anything, she seemed more beautiful than ever. I threw myself towards her and lay my head against her side. I’d used her as a pillow many times and she’d never objected, as long as I didn’t put my full weight on her. Now, with that rich purr filling my ears, I felt as small as a kitten, lost in a warm presence as big as the universe. Everything’s all right, she seemed to say. Everything’s all right.
“Don’t say hello,” said Kris.
“I just needed to see Feela,” I said.
“Yeah, well,” said Kris. “Don’t forget she’s here because of me.”
I raised my head and looked around. Now my eyes had adjusted, I was surprised to see how many little things Kris had done to make the place more homey. There were G-prints stuck to the walls, squares of patterned cloth on the tops of the boxes, and a ring of fairy lights around a mirror. I began to feel a little better.
“They came back,” I said.
“Told you,” said Kris.
“They’re going to arrest me,” I said.
“Not if you stay here,” said Kris.
“I’m not staying here!” I said.
Kris shrugged. He told me how he and his brothers had found this place years before, turned it into a makeshift home, stayed for weeks sometimes, when there was nowhere else to go. Then his brothers had decided to play ball with the authorities and since then, he’d been the sole tenant.
“Where are your brothers now?” I asked.
Kris shrugged again. “Don’t know, don’t care,” he said.
“You must care,” I replied.
“Anyway,” said Kris. “If you’re not staying here, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” I said, dropping wearily back onto Feela.
Kris watched me a while, then quite softly said, “We got to get away, Jade.”
“Why d’you say ‘we’?” I asked.
“They’ll be looking for me, too,” said Kris.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Just take it from me,” said Kris.
I didn’t pursue the matter. My mind was fixing on the thought of escape, and I wasn’t going to turn down an offer of help.
“But where would we go?” I asked.
“Ireland,” replied Kris.
Now I knew Kris was mad. For months the news had been full of explosions, killings, and mayhem on the streets in Ireland. It was the last place I wanted to go.
“Why on earth do you want to go to Ireland?” I asked.
“Because,” replied Kris, “there’s a cat amnesty in Ireland.”
“What’s an amnesty?” I asked.
Kris let out a deep sigh. He squatted down on his haunches and began explaining to me as if I was about four years old.
“It means,” he said, “you can keep Feela there.”
“How come?” I asked.
“Because they’ve had a bloody revolution, that’s why!” said Kris. “Well, not exactly a revolution. They just elected a government which kicked all the multinationals out.”
“What’s a multinational?” I asked.
“Don’t you know anything?” scoffed Kris.
“That’s why I’m asking!” I replied. “If you tell me I’ll know, won’t I?”
“A corporation,” said Kris. “A big company. Like Viafara.”
I tried to take this in. “They’ve kicked them out?” I repeated.
“Yep,” said Kris.
“They can’t just do that, can they?” I asked.
“They can do what they want,” replied Kris. “They’re the government.”
“And Viafara just let them free all the cats?” I asked.
Kris gave a short, bitter laugh. “Viafara are trying to break the government,” he replied. “That’s what’s behind all the violence.”
“I thought it was terrorists,” I said.
“Well then,” said Kris. “Shouldn’t believe all you hear, should you?”
I scrutinized Kris’s face. Did he really know what he was talking about, or just sound like he did, like most boys?
“Either way,” I replied, “Ireland’s not safe.”
“Some areas are,” said Kris. “You just need to know where to go.”
Again, Kris sounded so sure. I wanted to believe him. I needed to. What other choice did I have?
“How would we get there, anyway?” I asked.
“Go to Bluehaven,” said Kris, “and get a jetboat.”
“Aren’t there security checks?” I asked.
“Not if you go with a cowboy,” said Kris. “There’s tons of them around, if you know where to look.”
All my life I’d been a cautious person, just like Mum. All my life I’d followed her advice and checked everything out thoroughly before making a decision. Now, however, I didn’t have that option. But the thought of escape seemed a fantastic dream, and the alternative was a nightmare.
“How will we get to Bluehaven?” I asked.
Kris mimed thumbing a lift. “Only way,” he said. “Too much security on the rail.”
“But we can’t hide Feela,” I said.
Kris stood up to reveal what he’d been sitting on. It was an animal carrier, with an easy-grip handle and breathing holes in the side. I felt the weight of it. It wasn’t too bad.
“Come on then,” he said.
“What?” I said. “Now?”
“Sooner the better,” he said.
“I can’t go now!” I protested.
“Why not?” said Kris.
“Kris, my mum’s just died!” I cried. “She’s being cremated tomorrow!”
“You don’t have to go to it,” said Kris.
I could have killed him. “For God’s sake!” I said. “I’ve got to at least say good-bye!” My voice cracked as I said it, and the heaving sobs began again.
Kris waited till I’d calmed down some, and then, more sensitively, said, “Jade, Comprot will be there.”
“No they won’t,” I murmured, wiping my eyes. But that was just what I wanted to believe, and when I’d composed myself, I began to wonder if Kris might be right.
“They wouldn’t go there, would they?” I asked.
“If they want you,” said Kris, “they will find you.”
I got up. “I need some air,” I said. “I’ve got to think.”
Dusk was beginning to fall as I climbed out of the den. I gazed at the sky, I don’t know why, because Mum wasn’t up there any more than she was down here.
“Mum,” I pleaded, “tell me what to do.”
Suddenly, quite clearly, I heard Mum’s voice. But it wasn’t a miracle. Mum’s voice was inside me, just as sure as my heart, my bones, and my blood vessels. And Mum’s voice said, Save yourself, Jade. Save yourself and save Feela.
“I want to say good-bye,” I cried.
Let your escape be my memorial, said the voice.
How this sentence came to me I did not know. Maybe the memory of a book or a poem Mum had read to me once. But come it had. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was exactly what Mum would have wanted. She’d have thought me an idiot to risk everything for that last good-bye.
With a new resolve, I climbed back into the den to get Feela.
Chapter Ten
We’d been waiting at the edge of the quadway for half an hour. Hitching wasn’t easy these days, with all the road robberies and health scares. So I sat on Feela’s carrier while Kris thumbed the trucks as they came towards us and cursed them as they went past.
“She’ll wake up if we don’t get a lift soon,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” replied Kris. “She’ll be in dreamland for hours.”
We’d already had a row about this. Unknown to me, Kris had given Feela half a Dorma to knock her out. I was furious when I discovered this. Kris said she’d be perfectly all right, and I said how did he know since he’d never had a cat, and he wouldn’t answer that. Besides, I said, Kris should ask me before he did anything to my cat. Kris came out with the usual line about Feela being her own creature and not owned by anybody. By that point I was too tired to argue any more. But it seemed we just couldn’t avoid arguing.
“Ha!” cried Kris, as another truck flew by. “Wouldn’t go in a Nu-Market truck if they paid me! Scabs!”
“Why d’you say that?” I asked.
“They broke the rail strike,” said Kris. “Carried all the cargo.”
“Is that bad?” I asked.
Kris shook his head. “What planet do you live on?” he scoffed.
“I was only asking!” I snapped. “Stop talking to me like I’m six!”
Kris’s answer was to move farther away from me. As luck would have it, the next truck slowed down, pulled in, and waited for us. It just happened to be a Nu-Market, which I thought was quite amusing. Kris didn’t see the funny side at all, but when it came down to it, he wasn’t going to refuse a lift.
We climbed up into the cab and were greeted by a red-faced, muscular man in a yellow Nu-Market cap.
“Where you going, kids?” he asked.
“New Fishguard,” replied Kris.
“I can get you to Booth City,” said the driver.
“That’ll do,” said Kris.
I sat back and relaxed. It felt good in the cab, high above the road, with all the lights and the gadgets and the music on. The driver switched on and we moved off, smooth and silent, a machine-beast of the night.
