* * *
My drink was empty and I was thirsty when Warren and the girls finally put the cues away and sat down with us.
“We want to leave soon,” Tamara said.
“Before the queue gets too long,” Natalie added without looking at me.
I heard Al clear his throat. “Are you OK to walk Lu?”
“Think so mate, what about you?”
“I’ll try.”
I took tiny steps as I passed the pool table, then the pair of us carefully edged our way down the stairs. By now the pub was full of people, clumped together in one mass at the bar, all trying to be noticed by the barman. In my wobbly state I struggled to push my way through them.
The cold air outside hit me hard, locking my jaw into a rigid gurn. I gripped my arm tightly around Al’s shoulder, compensating for walking on broken feet. As we walked the back streets of King’s Cross, people dressed for raving began to appear; blokes in hi-viz vests and women wearing mid-calf height boots in cow skin fur, blowing whistles and fluorescent horns as they skipped on their way. It was probably what we should have been wearing, we’d all come out looking like we were on the way to an everyday bar, albeit with bigger eyes. The first twinges of the excitement I’d had on the train came back. I’d stopped coming up a little while ago and I knew I was as high as I was going to get. Unfortunately that was still too high.
“Just follow us,” Tamara said. “Don’t worry we won’t run off.”
“Do you mind if I lean on you Lu?” Al asked.
“Only if I can lean on you too.”
We passed an evangelical church in what looked more like the sort of building you hire out for parties and neighbourhood watch meetings. On the big black and silver sign at the front I noticed the word angel in evangelical. Angel as in church; so it was a church church.
Up front, Warren, Tamara and Natalie chatted away excited for the night ahead.
“Bredren!” I turned round and realised it was the homeless black man in the Rasta hat I’d been trying to ignore.
“Mate,” I nodded back.
“Yuh ave dropped sinting.”
Al and I walked back to the shop doorway he was sitting in to check. There was nothing on the floor.
“We haven’t,” Al said.
The man took a long look at the pair of us then laughed, “I think yuh will find yuh ave.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I haven’t got any change.”
“Wah yuh think just cah I’m talking to yah I want money?” he scowled at me, lines forming around his old dark eyes.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Al said. “We’re both a bit mangled.”
“I know,” the man said, “dat is why I’m gwine tell yuh a story.”
Warren and the girls had realised by now that we weren’t following and had come back.
“What are you doing?” Natalie asked.
“This bloke’s going to tell us a story,” I replied.
She gave me a look like I was an idiot. “Whatever. We’ve got to go to the shop to get some fags and chewing gum. We’ll be back in five, just wait here. Oh and enjoy your story.”
Al and I were left alone with the man. I was cold now, in just my shirt and jeans. I wanted to shiver but didn’t think it would be the right thing to do in front of the homeless man.
“Dis-a story take mi bak to mi yute now, when I was a likkle bwoy inna Jamaica. It were er long time ago, yuh haffi let mi cast mi mind bak an think. Duh nah seh a ting now.”
I looked at Al and he nodded. “Course,” I said.
“Inna Marlston weh I grew up, wi neva had di trees yuh ave; big thick trees wid leaves dat guh green an brown. Wi had di palm trees dat love di sun, trees dat grow tall inna di hot hot days.”
I smiled and wished we were by the trees that loved the sun.
“When I was a likkle yute I used to climb di hill behine our town, an guh inna di forest weh I could listen to di birds sing. Just mi an di birds, alone wid di trees. Yuh know why I used to duh dat?”
“So you could think?” Al said.
“Suh I could think!” the man replied. “Every mon gat to ave space to think. Now let mi tell yuh bout thdeppone time I be up inna di woods.”
There was a pause while he composed himself, and remembered the next line of the story.
“I be sitting pon di stump of a tree when I hears a nize. Suddenly all di pretty likkle birds went quiat.”
“Shhh!” he said, holding his finger in front of his lips. “Siiilence.”
“I thought maybe it wersera mongoose suh I ducked dung. It did nah scare mi, ef it was a mongoose I was gwine kill it an tek it bak to show mi fadda suh he could see ow brave I was.”
Mine and Al’s silence gestured him to go on.
“I started chasing him through di trees, I could hear him running through di leaves but I could nah see him. As fass as I chased he ran wey. I chased him through di bushes, up a hill den dung di odda side weh deh was a stream; he mus ave jumped ovah di stream cah I did nah hear him inna di wata. Den he made a likkle nize pon di odda side suh I know he till deh. I hear him panting pon di breeze.”
He paused while he looked at the pair of us. “Yuh know wah I am saying?”
We both nodded, captivated.
“Den I almost weh I know deh is nuh mo trees, just wide open space. I know ef I cyan get him deh, inna di open, I cyan see wah him ah. Suh I chase him, as fass as I cyan I chase him. Mi chest heave until I think I cyan nah chase any mo but I know ef I cyan just kip chasing him I will find outa wah him ah. Suh I run, I run as fass as I cyan; an he run, as fass as he cyan. Through di trees until wi are both inna di open. An yuh know wah I see wid fi mi my own two eyes now?”
“What?!” Al asked. “What did you see?”
“Unicorns an butterflies every weh.”
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“Den I realised I had nuh money fah a likkle beer.”
“What that’s the end of the story?”
“I think he’s saying if you give him money he’ll tell you the ending,” Al said.
“Who says a story has to ave an ending? Wah ef wi are dat story now?” He looked at Al. “Weh yuh name?”
“Al.”
“Maybe yuh a di unicorn Al.” He looked at me. “Weh yuh name?”
“Luke,” I replied. “So I’m the butterflies then?”
“Yuh are a butterfly Luke. An King’s Cross is di forest. It might nah look lacka forest now but trust mi, deh are days when yuh could swear it was. Dat yuh cyan believe.”
“So if Al’s a unicorn, and I’m a butterfly. Where are the rest of the butterflies?”
“Dat is obvious is it nah.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah,” the man replied. “Demma rite behine yuh.”
“Lu.” Natalie tapped me on the shoulder, scaring the shit out of me. “Come on, it’s time to get raving.”
I thanked the man for the story and placed a fiver on his sleeping bag, then we made our way to the club.
Church Group Page 41
