by Phil Earle
But he’d chosen not to use it. He’d chosen to play along with the lie, and Joseph knew that could only mean bad news. Because whatever Bert was plotting, it had to be worse than Clarence. And that, no matter how brave or pig-headed Joseph could be, was not something he wanted to be on the end of.
22
The ball rebounded off the wall and landed at Joseph’s feet.
It didn’t bounce. That would demand some air being left inside it.
‘Was this thing ever pumped up?’ he said.
‘Course it was,’ Syd replied, pointing at an enclosure off in the distance. ‘That’s where the seals lived, over there. That was their favourite juggling ball.’
Joseph looked over to where Syd was pointing but couldn’t imagine what she was describing, couldn’t picture the crowds or hear the laughter. Couldn’t imagine the zoo feeling anything but dead.
He kicked the ball again. Harder, though it returned in the exact same, unsatisfactory manner. The thud drew Adonis from his hut, eyes on Joseph, as if trying to understand what on earth the boy was doing. Joseph tried to pretend that he wasn’t there, watching.
‘I can see who you’re picturing as you kick that,’ said Syd. ‘The ball’s in better condition than Bert is though. The fool.’
Joseph laughed. He couldn’t help himself and it felt good. He knew he owed her for today.
‘Thanks,’ he said, trying to hide the word beneath another thud of the ball.
‘Pardon?’
‘You heard...’
‘No, I presumed you were thanking the ball. I was just confused as to why you weren’t thanking me instead.’
‘You just want me to say it again, don’t you?’
‘No, it’d just be nice if I thought you actually meant it.’
He kicked the ball once more, as if the exertion would somehow hide his blushes. ‘What do you want? Me on my knees or something?’
Syd pictured it and nodded. ‘It’s an idea. After all, I did an awful lot to stop you getting caned.’
Finally, he stopped his kicking and looked at her.
‘I do know that. I’m not dumb.’
‘Why does everything come down to being dumb or thick or stupid with you? Did I say you were any of those things?’
‘No, but...’
‘Then stop it. You seem to have conveniently forgotten that you’re also a maths genius! Anyway, I don’t care if you’re smart or the class dunce.’
‘Yeah well, that makes you the only one round here.’
Syd knew what he was referring to. Later in the day, she’d watched in class as Joseph had sat, squirming in his seat, Miss Doherty beside him, a reading book quivering between them. To her credit, the teacher had done things differently this time, taking Joseph to the farthest part of the classroom, speaking to him in hushed tones that no one else could hear.
She’d not flinched when Joseph told her he’d lost his reading book. She’d simply fetched a new one, then prompted, and prodded, and made all the right encouraging noises as he winced in the direction of the page: ‘Take your time now, there’s no rush... Reading is like building blocks. Once you know how to stack them you can build anything – a skyscraper!’ Her wide eyes almost pleaded with him to be impressed.
But it didn’t matter how gentle the prod, to Joseph it felt like a fist in the chest, and no matter how quickly he’d dashed through the school gates at the end of the day, with Syd in tow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was another thing wrong with him.
He tried to shake the thought of it from his head, but it had taken firm root, and no amount of ball kicking seemed to shake it, not that he’d really expected it to.
‘What did you say when Miss asked where your reading book was?’ Syd said.
‘Told her an ape ate it.’
Syd looked at Adonis and remembered the confetti the ape had made of it. She laughed. ‘Well, it’s more original than blaming it on the dog.’
Joseph nodded and looked at Adonis, who seemed to plump himself up proudly.
‘Don’t get over-excited,’ Joseph told him. ‘I don’t think for a minute that you did it to help me out.’
‘Aw, look, you’ve offended him!’ said Syd as the ape looked away. ‘And I wouldn’t rule it out, either. They’re clever, apes.’
Silence. Joseph had nothing to add. Another kick. Another thud.
‘So, I’m guessing you never told Miss Doherty – about the words moving around on the page?’
‘Did you hear her laughing in there?’
‘Joseph, she wouldn’t laugh, she’s a teacher!’
‘Didn’t stop the others.’
‘So, you didn’t tell her?’
He shook his head and tried to flick the ball onto his knee, sulking when he failed.
‘You can’t keep going on like this, you know. In a couple of weeks’ time, Gryce will arrive for his monthly tests. And you know full well he’ll be extra interested in you. I don’t want to scare you, but it’s not a nice afternoon when he comes in. I’ve seen a girl wet herself before in panic.’
Joseph pulled a face that said he wouldn’t fold like that, but Syd spoke on. ‘And one boy, well he didn’t give Gryce the answer to seven times two quick enough, so he got caned fourteen times, so he’d never forget.’
Joseph may have considered himself tough, but even that made his palms sting in anticipation. ‘Miss Doherty warned me about the test again today. Said my maths would help, but that we had a lot of work to do if Gryce wasn’t going to be upset.’
‘And you want that? Really?’
‘Course not.’
‘Then what do you need to do... ?’
Joseph knew what she was getting at. He knew he only had to ask, and she’d do exactly as he wished. But the words, the ‘word’ – HELP – refused to form on his lips. He tried, he really did, but every time he felt it on his tongue he remembered the other times he’d uttered it, and the crashing disappointments that followed. His gaze dropped to the floor and he kicked the ball even harder.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Joseph. Let me help you, will you?’
The thought of accepting made his chest hurt.
‘I know you’re embarrassed about it. I understand why. But you can’t let yourself walk straight into Clarence like this, you can’t! So I’m going to help you read. And don’t even try and say no.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or you’ll find me a more dangerous enemy than Bert or Jimmy.’
Joseph bit the inside of his lip.
‘Come on, no one’s watching. Only him –’ she pointed at Adonis – ‘and he’s already shown you what he thinks about books.’
He weighed it up and realised he had no choice if he wanted to avoid Gryce’s and Clarence’s wrath.
So he sat next to her on the bench self-consciously, not helped when he spotted Adonis staring at them again. In fact, it looked like he might have shuffled closer.
‘Right,’ said Syd, ‘I brought this with me.’ And from the rear waistband of her skirt, she pulled out Joseph’s reading book.
‘Where did you get that from?’ he said, bemused.
‘From your desk, of course. I couldn’t give you a lesson without it, could I?’
‘But I hadn’t asked you for a lesson.’
Syd looked at him wearily. ‘No, but I knew you would in the end. So let’s get on with it, shall we?’
Joseph huffed loudly. How on earth had she persuaded him to do this?
She set the book on his knee, and he felt himself tense as Syd leaned into his shoulder.
‘Shall we start with the alphabet?’
He turned his head quickly.
‘I’m not a baby.’
‘I know you’re not.’
‘And I have been to school, just... not lately.’
‘So
you know about vowels?’
‘Course I do.’
‘Go on then,’ she prompted. To Joseph she looked like she was relishing the power a little too much.
‘Well, it’s A and E and I, and that.’
‘And the others are?’
‘Leave off, Syd, will you?’ He made to stand, which made Syd change tack.
‘I’m sorry. Tell me, then. What does A stand for?’
‘Are you pulling my leg?’
‘Just tell me. Then we can move on.’
He didn’t so much sigh as huff. She was on the shakiest of ground.
‘A? Well it stands for...’ his mind went blank for a second. ‘Well, you know...’ He thought. ‘Air raid and Adolf and anger and... Adonis.’
The other words he could understand, but that last one? Why on earth did he think of that? There were hundreds, thousands of As out there, so why choose the ape?
‘Can we get on with it?’ he grumbled, before Syd had a chance to hang any meaning off his choices.
‘Fine. So. Put your finger next to the first word.’
He did as he was told, but as he focused on it, it started again. The word, and all the others around it started to move, dance, like they were being tossed around on a high sea. It took every bit of concentration he had to make his finger remain below it, let alone read it.
Syd watched, shocked as Joseph’s index finger slid around the page.
‘Is it happening again? Won’t they stay still?’
He thrust the book away from him and onto the gravel. ‘What do you think? Just cos you’re here doesn’t mean it stops happening.’
‘Does it help if you close your eyes a bit? Squint, I mean?’
‘Are you taking the mick?’
She clearly wasn’t, and after more cajoling he snatched up the book and tried again, through narrowed eyes.
‘Now it’s a darker,dancing mess.’
‘Hmmmm,’ said Syd, a detective poring over clues. ‘Will you try one more thing? Please?’
‘If you ask me to read standing on my head, I promise, I’ll swing for you, Syd.’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Just humour me and try something on, will you?’
She pulled from her cardigan pocket a pair of old spectacles: severe and angular.
‘Whose are those?’ he said, pained.
‘My auntie’s spares.’
‘Then what are they doing in your pocket?’
‘Well, I wanted to see if they helped you.’
Joseph couldn’t believe how premeditated all this was.
‘You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m just organised. And I want to help. Well, come on.’
Joseph peered at Adonis. Did apes have a sense of humour? Because if this one laughed, he swore he would lose his mind.
‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ said Syd.
Joseph stared at the specatacles, aghast.
‘Come on,’ said Syd, ‘quicker you try, quicker it’s over!’
Against his better judgement, and swearing under his breath, he slid the arms over his ears, without letting the bridge rest on his nose. He kept his hands cupped around the frames too, to hide his appearance, though to Syd it looked like he was searching for U-boats through a pair of binoculars.
‘Well?’ she said, though she needn’t have bothered, as by the time the question was asked, the spectacles were spinning on the floor, hurled in a rage. ‘Oh,’ she said, though she might have said a whole lot more when Joseph’s foot crunched them into the gravel.
‘Are you happy now?’ he spat, face scarlet with frustration, which barely disguised his shame. ‘Well? Are you?’
‘I thought it might help,’ she said, a trace of pleading in her voice. ‘That’s all.’
‘Yeah, well, you can leave it alone now, can’t you? There’s summat wrong with me. And not you, or anyone else, can fix it.’
‘That’s not true, Joseph. And you can’t give up like that. You mustn’t.’
But Joseph had made up his mind. ‘Leave me alone, will you? I don’t want your help. Go and save someone else.’
‘I won’t give up,’ she replied calmly.
‘I said GO!’
So, reluctantly, she did, leaving Joseph where he wanted to be. Where he felt he deserved to be.
Alone.
The only problem was, he wasn’t on his own at all. Adonis remained. And although he did not move, he did tilt his head slightly to the side, eyes on Joseph, a low, slow, repetitive noise leaving his mouth.
It wasn’t a growl, far from it – more a groan, though even that wasn’t completely accurate. It reached Joseph’s ears gently, at odds with his own chaotic thoughts, and although he didn’t want to admit it, it stayed with him, helping his mind settle, just a touch.
23
The zoo may have been close to empty, but it still demanded a great deal of upkeep. Mrs F stood at the centre of it of course, barking out orders, coming down hard when her standards weren’t met. She may not have Clarence hanging on her wall, but her bark could inflict a pain in Joseph’s ears that felt comparable.
There was the daily mucking out, with which Joseph became intimately acquainted. He had also been put in charge of sourcing food for the animals, which was barely more palatable. He’d become acquainted with every butcher and greengrocer within a three-mile radius, loitering at their doors as they closed, taking whatever offcuts they could spare or had seen fit to dispose of.
The smell from his buckets was often putrid, the handle cutting into his frozen hands as he lugged them through the streets, ignoring the kids who ran from him screaming at the smell. The only positive to the stench was that it temporarily quelled the constant, nagging hunger he felt in his belly. Food was scarce, and rationing did little for his constant, irritated mood.
He often felt like he was becoming some kind of awful local figure, a scarecrow, the boy with the raggedy clothes and alien accent, the boy who brought the smell wherever he went. It didn’t help that he was also regularly tramping through the streets with Stan and Ollie and their dung trolley on the way to the allotments.
Once there, Joseph had become more adept at driving a bargain, determined to return to the zoo with food for the animals that Mrs F hadn’t tasked him with.
‘If you want all this manure, then I’ll need something extra in return today,’ he told the ruddy-faced man there.
‘That a fact?’
‘It is. There’s a lot more demand for the dung this week. So it’ll cost you an extra six pieces of veg.’
‘Will it now?’
‘It will.’
The man glared at him. Joseph stood as tall as he could without resorting to tiptoes.
‘You’ll take three and think yourself lucky you’re not getting a clip round the ear.’
Joseph pondered the offer, then nodded and held out his hand. He’d have settled for two. Plus, he couldn’t wait for Mrs F to see what he’d negotiated. Adonis would be pleased too. Veg was definitely preferable to grass.
It was debatable whether the ponies were warming to Joseph and his unique style of encouragement, though the boy was certainly tuning in to their eccentricities. In fact, he’d become rather astute as to what made them tick.
Ollie was governed by his stomach; Stan, meanwhile, was more subtle. Rotting vegetables held little incentive for him, and neither did a Gryce style of discipline. What Joseph discovered, through trial and error, was that Stan was very partial to a tickle below his chin. It couldn’t be gentle, his hair was too thick and wiry for that, but if Joseph turned his fist into a claw and rubbed vigorously in a strictly clockwise motion, then Stan’s eyes would close blissfully, his head tilting to the side, before ploughing on.
It was a discovery that didn�
�t go unnoticed on one allotment run. Stan was playing up at the zoo gates, in full view of both Mrs F and Syd, who had the much more pleasant job of sweeping the paths. Mrs F watched the boy struggle with the beast.
‘Shouldn’t we help?’ asked Syd.
‘Give him a minute. He’s not helpless. And I don’t mean Stan.’
Joseph could feel their eyes on him, and tried, unsuccessfully, to use his body as a shield as he set to work tickling.
Mrs F could see what he was doing though and when he got Stan moving, finally, it was impossible not to be impressed. She turned back to her sweeping, happy that she hadn’t had to intervene.
What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t the only one capable of watching subtly, from afar. Joseph had become rather adept at it himself. He might have become more intuitive when it came to the ponies, but Adonis remained in another league. The ape was still aloof and enigmatic, which did little to help Joseph’s confidence. He had no idea what he was doing wrong. Seeing how Adonis reacted so differently to Mrs F didn’t help either, whether she was inside the cage, or out.
He’d watch her approach the bars in the same way she had that first day: the slow, hunched walk, the mimicking of his noises and movements, head down, avoiding eye contact. Her methods never changed, and neither did the results. Adonis would walk calmly and quietly in her direction, then perch across from her, as if sitting before a mirror instead of bars, and pluck whatever offerings she had in her hands. It was a little like watching two friends share a picnic.
‘It’s not difficult,’ she’d tell Joseph, when it was his turn to try. ‘Just do what I do.’
But it always seemed to Joseph that his efforts could never match hers. He felt foolish trying to mimic an ape. And as for going inside the cage to clean him out? He couldn’t see that everhappening.
‘No, no, no,’ she’d tut as he stomped towards the bars. ‘It’s no good getting that close then throwing it away from him. He’s not interested in hunting it down, and besides the poor beggar’s in there all day long on his own, bit of interaction is what he needs. He’ll take it from you if he thinks you’re not a threat.’
‘Me a threat?’ said Joseph. ‘I’m not the one who charged first time we met.’
