Pigeon English

by Stephen Kelman

  Some people put their cars on the garden. The car was right next to the window. It felt like the car was waiting to come in but nobody would let it in. I pretended like the car was a dog. He’d been sent out to the garden to ease himself, now he wanted to come back in but nobody was listening. Asweh, it was very funny. I even felt sorry for him.

  At first I thought Auntie Sonia’s house was one big house but it’s actually two flats inside. Auntie Sonia’s flat is at the bottom, and there’s another flat up the stairs. Auntie Sonia’s TV is massive. It’s proper skinny and it hangs on the wall like a picture. Everything in her flat looks brand new. Auntie Sonia even has a tree inside a pot. It’s only tiny. A tree inside felt crazy, I didn’t like it. I was worried for when the tree got bigger and hit the roof. Then it would die.

  Me: ‘What will happen when it grows up?’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘It won’t grow up, it stays like that all the time. It’s a special kind of tree that never grows.’

  It’s like a baby who dies when it’s still a baby. It’s very mean to make a tree like that. If I was the tree I’d roar all the time until somebody came and let me outside.

  Auntie Sonia made kenkey and fish. I got so fed up I thought my belly would pop. I even had a cup of tea with two sugar. Auntie Sonia dropped the spoon on the floor. It made a mighty crash. Her face went hard.

  Me: ‘Is it because of your fingers?’

  Mamma: ‘Harrison.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘It’s OK. They’re not babies, they should know.’

  Lydia: ‘I want to know. You’re always keeping secrets from us.’

  Mamma: ‘Lydia.’

  It’s true though, Mamma does keep secrets. I found her lottery tickets when I was looking in the secret drawer for chocolate. Mamma always says the lottery’s for foolish people and you might as well throw the pound down a well.

  Auntie Sonia: ‘Where’s the harm? I don’t want to lie to them.’

  Mamma let out a big breath. That means she’s given up trying. She just carried on washing up the plates proper fast like it was a race against the clock. I love it when Auntie Sonia wins. She tells the best stories. They’re even true.

  Auntie Sonia burned her fingers on the stove. It’s the easiest way.

  Auntie Sonia: ‘There’s nothing to it really. You just keep your fingers on the stove until all the skin has burned away.’

  Me and Lydia: ‘Did it hurt?’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘It’s quite scary the first time. You can smell your skin cooking. You have to pull your fingers off before they get stuck for good. It’s the only time I cried.’

  I felt sick when I thought about it. I loved the story so much already.

  Auntie Sonia: ‘You hardly feel it really. It’s easier when you’re boozed. Like most things.’

  Mamma: ‘Don’t tell them that.’

  Lydia: ‘Do they feel funny?’

  They look funny. Auntie Sonia’s fingers are all black at the end and shiny. It looks like it hurts. It looks like a zombie’s fingers.

  Auntie Sonia: ‘Sometimes. I can’t feel the close-up of things anymore.’

  Lydia: ‘Like what things?’

  We tested Auntie Sonia’s fingers. We gave her a hell of different things to feel and she had to say if she could feel them or not. We tried the remote control from her TV. She couldn’t even change the volume at first.

  Auntie Sonia: ‘The buttons are too small.’

  She wasn’t even lying. Lydia made her feel the pattern on her top. It’s only little stars on the sleeve. Auntie Sonia made a concentrating face. It wasn’t working, you could tell.

  Mamma: ‘That’s enough now. Leave her alone, she’s not an animal at the zoo.’

  Lydia: ‘Adjei, I don’t know how you could do it. I could never do it.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘You do what you have to.’

  Mamma: ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘I thought I did at the time. This is where your Mamma and me will never agree.’

  Mamma: ‘It’s not the only thing.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘But you still love me, don’t you?’

  Auntie Sonia burned her fingers to get the fingerprints off. Now she has no fingerprints at all. It’s so if the police catch her they can’t send her away. Your fingerprints tell them who you are. If you have no fingerprints, you can’t be anybody. Then they don’t know where you belong so they can’t send you back. Then they have to let you stay.

  Auntie Sonia: ‘I did it the easy way. Some people do it with a lighter or a razor. It takes donkey hours that way. Just get it over and done with, that’s what I did.’

  Every time her fingerprints grow back she has to burn them off again. It feels very hutious. Auntie Sonia says she’ll stop burning them when she finds the perfect place. When she can stay in that place forever and there’s nobody to ruin it or send her away, then she’ll let her fingerprints grow back for good.

  Me: ‘It could be here.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘It could be. We’ll see.’

  Me: ‘I hope it is, then we can come round to your house for Christmas. If I get a Playstation we can play it on the big TV, I bet it will look dope-fine.’

  Auntie Sonia hasn’t even done anything bad. She’s never killed anybody or stolen anything. She just likes to go to different places. She likes to see the different things there. Some of the countries won’t let you in if you’re black. You have to sneak in. When you’re in you just act like everybody else. Auntie Sonia only does the same things as them. She goes to work and shopping. She eats her dinner and goes to the park. In New York it’s called Central Park. It’s big enough to fit a hundred children’s parks inside and it even has ice skating.

  Me: ‘If you fall over on the ice you have to fold your fingers in so they don’t get sliced off. My friend Poppy told me.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘Does Harrison have a girlfriend?’

  Me: ‘No! And it’s the same with firemen, when they can’t see because of the smoke they have to feel around instead. They always feel with the outside of their hands, if you feel with the insides and you find a wire your fingers automatically grab on it and that’s how you get electrocuted.’

  Auntie Sonia: ‘Is that right?’

  Me: ‘Absolutely!’

  Asweh, I’d love to go ice skating. I’d even burn off my fingerprints to get there. I’d do it on the stove, it’s quicker. It’s not really cheating, I’d still pay for my skates like everybody else. Auntie Sonia bought me a proper football made from skin. Lydia got a Tinchy Stryder CD. Auntie Sonia always knows what you want the most, she can read your mind.

  We had to go when Julius came back. He had his baseball bat but no ball so we couldn’t play a game. Julius calls his bat the Persuader. He always brings it home from work with him. He pats it and talks to it proper gentle like it’s a good dog. You can pretend like all the scratches in it are from where it got in a fight with another dog.

  Julius: ‘He earned his keep today. Give him his bath, eh?’

  Auntie Sonia took the bat to the kitchen to wash it. She had to pretend like it was a dog as well. You only can’t ask why because too many questions give Julius a headache. You just have to let him drink his kill-me-quick in peace.

  Julius: ‘Harri, want some?’

  Me: ‘No thanks!’

  Julius: ‘The only friends a man needs, his bat and a drink. One to get you what you want, the other to forget how you got it. You’ll see what I mean one day. Just stay good for as long as you can, eh? Just stay the way you are.’

  Me: ‘I will!’

  On the tube coming home I saw a lady with a moustache. At first I thought it was just dirt but when I looked again it was definitely hair. It wasn’t thick like Mr Carroll’s but you still knew it was there. I wanted to laugh but I held it in.

  We couldn’t see a barber on a bike, I don’t think they have them here. Kwadwo was my favourite barber where I used to live, his bike had a radio as well and he always warned you before he
used the razor on your neck so you had time to get ready. We had to go to a shop instead. The barber was called Mario. He’s quite grumpy. When he moved my head it was too rough. He did it too fast. And his fingers were too hairy. Mario didn’t even talk to me. He even hates cutting people’s hair.

  Dean: ‘He’s only a barber so he can sell all the old hair to China. They make it into clothes, innit.’

  At first I asked Mamma if I could have cornrolls.

  Mamma: ‘Why, so you can look like a bogah?’

  Me: ‘No. I just like it. It’s bo-styles.’

  Lydia: ‘He only wants cornrolls because Marcus Johnson has them.’

  Me: ‘Gowayou. No I don’t.’

  Mamma: ‘Who is Marcus Johnson?’

  Lydia: ‘He’s in Year 11. He thinks he’s the ironboy. They get the younger ones to do tricks for them. They have them all running around. It’s very sad. He calls himself X-Fire.’

  Me: ‘It’s not X-Fire, fool. It’s Crossfire. It only looks like X-Fire when he paints it on the wall.’

  Lydia: ‘Whatever. It’s still sad.’

  Me: ‘Is not. At least nobody tells him what to do all the time, not like you keep making me kill the bedbugs. Smash your own bedbugs, they don’t even go on me.’

  Lydia: ‘It was only one time, what are you saying? Are you saying I’m dirty?’

  Me: ‘One went up your nose when you were asleep. I saw it with my own two eyes. He’s probably built a house in your brain by now. He’s probably planted a garden and bought a satellite dish, he go live there forever.’

  Lydia: ‘Gowayou!’

  Mamma: ‘Stop vexing your sister! Your hair’s not long enough for cornrolls anyway. You can have low hair. And don’t make squeeze-eyes at me.’

  I just got low hair. Mario didn’t even know what it was.

  Mario: ‘You mean a number one or a number two?’

  He called it a number two! I swear by God! It was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard! Mario is dey touch. From today onward going I’m saving up all my hair until it’s long enough for cornrolls, I don’t care what Mamma says. Then I’ll have the blood to pass any mission and they’ll have to let me join the gang.

  Number two is another name for a shit. I know, I didn’t believe it either!

  If you start from my tower, you go under the tunnel and past the little kids’ school and some other houses, and then you’ll get to the green. It’s quite big. There’s two football goals with no nets and a playground with swings and a roundabout and some other stuff. There’s a little pirate ship and loads of springy things: a jeep on a spring and a motorbike on a spring and two ladybirds. You just sit on them and they bounce around. I don’t go on them anymore because they’re gay. Everybody agrees. They’re just for babies. The swings are always broken from the dogbites.

  The best thing is the climbing frame but you never get to go on it because it belongs to the Dell Farm Crew. They’re always on it. They don’t even play, they just sit there smoking fags and hooting the people when they go by. If you go on it after them it just smells of fags and there’s too much broken glass everywhere. I just don’t bother anymore. I’ll only go on it when they invite me but if they offer me a fag I’ll just say no thanks, I’m trying to give up, doctor’s orders (it’s the best way to get out of anything).

  There’s a sign next to the playground:

  It doesn’t even tell you what the question is. You just have to say no to whatever they ask you.

  Me: ‘What if they ask where’s the hospital? What if they need your help?’

  Jordan: ‘Don’t be gay. They never need your help. They just want to take you away in a van and shag you up the arse, innit.’

  It felt very crazy. Nobody asked to sex me before. Most people just want your help. If I see a stranger I’ll ask him first what he’s looking for. If he gives a good answer then it’s safe. He won’t even try to sex me. Jordan is just dey touch.

  Jordan: ‘Come on, man, keep looking.’

  So far I’d only found one beer bottle. Jordan had three. I wasn’t really looking hard. Really I was looking for the murder weapon. If it’s not by the river it could be here. There’s always drug needles around the playground. They don’t even try to bury them, they’re just on the top. There could be a knife as well. It all depends how smart the killer is. If he’s smart, he sent the murder weapon out to sea or buried it deep down underground. If he was high or in his bottle he could have just dropped it anywhere.

  There’s a hole in the playground where the twister used to be. Jordan set fire to it. It was ages ago, before I came here. The ground where it used to be is all black and burned like a lightning hit it. Jordan’s always telling you the bad things he’s done:

  The biggest bad things Jordan has done

  Set fire to the twister.

  Drunk a whole bottle of vodka (it’s like kill-me-quick).

  Let down the tyres on the police car.

  Put fireworks in the wheelie bin.

  Kicked the teacher.

  Threw a cat down the rubbish pipe.

  T’iefed a Lucky Bag from the supermarket.

  Chooked some people.

  Called a grown-up a c—.

  Smashed the beer bottles.

  Jordan’s hand around my neck was making me cough. I looked up in the sky for my pigeon to come shit on his head but no luck, they were all just flying past but not stopping. I only gave in to stop myself from coughing to death.

  Jordan: ‘You’ve gotta do it, man. I’m always doing everything. If you don’t do it you’re just a pussy.’

  Me: ‘I’m doing it, I’m doing it!’

  I just wanted to go home but I had to wait for Lydia to come back from Dance Club. I should get a key. I don’t care if Lydia’s Year 9, it’s not fair that she gets a key and I don’t. I’m still the man of the house.

  Jordan: ‘I’ll go first. Don’t close your eyes, you’ve gotta watch every one. We’re gonna smash the f— out of ’em.’

  We had to smash them all. We couldn’t even stop if a grown-up came, we had to keep throwing them until they were all smashed. It was the only way to get all the points. Jordan went first. I was waiting until last. If you only do the last one it isn’t even a crime.

  Jordan loves smashing the bottles, you could tell. His eyes go all big and shiny. He threw the first bottle up high. When it landed it made a mighty smash into a million pieces. You were scared but you loved it at the same time. He threw another one and another one. They all smashed all over the path. You wanted to run but you couldn’t even move. He even threw one from behind his back. That was the best time. Then it was my turn.

  Jordan: ‘Throw it high so it smashes better.’

  Me: ‘Do we have to pick up the broken bits?’

  Jordan: ‘Don’t be gay, the council does it, that’s their job. Just smash the f—er, man.’

  I copied Jordan’s style. I threw my bottle from over my head so it landed behind my back. It smashed all over the pavement. It was brutal. It made me feel crazy. Nobody even stopped us, they were all too scared to tell.

  Me: ‘How many points is that?’

  Jordan: ‘I’ll give you ten.’

  Me: ‘How! That’s not fair, you said a hundred!’

  Jordan: ‘Shut up man, you closed your eyes, you only get ten. You shouldn’t be such a pussy.’

  I told you, Jordan is a confusionist. You only can’t rough him or he’ll strangle you even more. I wanted to run when I saw Lydia coming down the path. It felt like she saved the day. She was still wearing her parrot costume. She just loves it, she doesn’t even care who knows.

  Jordan: ‘Your sister’s a numptie, man. She thinks she’s a chicken.’

  Me: ‘It’s not a chicken, it’s a parrot.’

  I only gave her a dirty blow on the arm for if Jordan was still watching.

  Lydia: ‘Ow! What did you do that for?’

  Me: ‘Sorry! It was an accident!’

  You go to such lengths to keep us ou
t. You blockade our favoured roosting sites with steel mesh and spikes. You shoot us with .22-calibre rifles where the law allows, poison us with strychnine, coat your windowsills with flypaper and watch us do the mashed potato as we try to unstick ourselves, have a good laugh at our expense. So undignified, I feel so stupid. I’m supposed to suck it up and pretend like it’s all OK, just the food chain asserting itself, me below you above me, just the rules of the game.

  You think you make the rules, that’s the killer. Gets me every time. This stuff better not be toxic.

  Volcanoes are just mountains with fire inside. The fire comes from rivers under the ground. They only erupt when the volcano god is angry. At least that’s what the early-times people thought.

  Mr Carroll: ‘That’s right, Harrison, people did use to think that.’

  Me: ‘But really it’s Hell down there, isn’t it sir.’

  Mr Carroll: ‘That’s an interesting theory. It’s definitely as hot as hell, that’s for sure.’

  Everybody was laughing at me. They don’t believe in Hell around here. Asweh, they’re in for a nasty surprise! They’re going to get burned up like human toast!

  In the early times they thought a fire god lived inside the volcano. He’d only stop throwing fire at them if they threw a virgin in the volcano for the god to eat. They thought there was a different god in everything. They thought there was a sky god and a tree god and a volcano god and a sea god. All their gods were angry all the time. They had to keep feeding them or they’d destroy them. The sea god would make a flood or the sky god would rain lightning on you or the tree god would fall on your house. They were always going to destroy you unless you fed them with virgins. Asweh, early-times people were very stupid. A virgin is a lady who isn’t married yet. They’re prized because they’re so rare. Only the gods can eat them. Married ladies gave them the shits. Everybody agreed.

  At afternoon Registration Poppy gave me a letter. I wasn’t allowed to open it until I got home and I couldn’t show it to anybody else. I made sure nobody was looking. I went in my room, closed the door and stood right in front of it so no invaders could break in. My belly went funny and sick for if it was a trick.