The Bombs That Brought Us Together (19 page)

‘We’re all born, Max. And we all have to breathe in order to stay alive,’ I said.

‘Don’t get smart with me, Law, or I’ll break your pig snout.’ Max turned his hand into a fist and lifted it inches from my snout.

Max put his snout closer to my snout. Our snouts were almost touching. Eskimo kissing. His breath reeked of fags and shit.

‘Just tell your pal and his skanky Old Country army that he’s not welcome here,’ Max said. ‘That’s enough for now.’

Max took his snout and his rank breath back a stride.

I went into geography. Late. Not my style. Sat for an hour bricking it, weighing up my options. I considered The Big Man’s guns and how much damage two bullets could do.

I had no experience of what going to school in a warish zone would be like. I do now. Everyone was edgy and aggressive, including the teachers. You’d be afraid to look at someone the wrong way in case you got an earful. Maybe worse. I lost count of the amount of scraps there were in those first few days.

Because Pav couldn’t speak the lingo like a politician under interrogation he was put into some of the thicko classes. They said he’d
catch up much quicker due to the pace being slower
in thicko classes. Now, my brain isn’t blessed with the cells of the great thinkers, but this seemed to me like a contradiction, or like some smart-arse was having a laugh at the poor Old Country boy. This meant I didn’t see Pav for large chunks of the day, so I couldn’t keep an eye on him, protect
him, make him laugh, help him with the trauma of a new school. I couldn’t be his surrogate teacher. I couldn’t plot out a way to Mercy Lewis’s heart. All my classes did proper learning. Basically I only saw Pav at break and at lunch, and sometimes I didn’t even see him then, as I was studying or doing homework. Keeping on top of it.

It was Mercy Lewis who told me. It was day three. I had my nose in a story. She was out of breath. Her face was chalk, which then made my face go chalk. At first I thought it was due to the hunger; sometimes it made me disoriented and faint. I knew that I looked skinnier and paler. Sure, we all did. But this wasn’t hunger Mercy was oozing; sometimes the eyes can tell when something isn’t a piss-take. The heart knows right away, and so does the skin colour. Especially when it’s Mercy Lewis who’s telling the tale; she wasn’t exactly renowned for her monkey business and mickey-taking. Mercy had never seen anyone being punched full force in the face or headbutted on the crown before. And it was the first time she’d witnessed one human stamping on another human’s head. It left its mark on Mercy, so much so she was struggling to speak. That’s why when she tried to tell me what had happened she was shaking like a leaf.

‘It’s OK, Mercy,’ I said. ‘Take a deep breath and tell me what’s happened.’

Mercy Lewis took a gulp of fresh air. My heart was bursting out of my shirt.

‘Charlie, it’s Pav.’

‘What about him?’

‘Max and Bones.’

‘What have they done?’

Mercy held her chest. Her oh-my-God moment.

‘Mercy, what have Max and Bones done?’

‘He was on the ground, Charlie. Blood everywhere. They stamped on him. On his head, again and again.’

‘Where is he, Mercy? Where is Pav now?’

‘He was lying there,’ she said.

‘Outside?’ I asked. ‘Who’s with him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Teachers?’

‘No, I think he’s alone.’

As soon as she said the word
alone
I was on my heels. I dropped my book, legged it outside and immediately saw the small gathering. A growing circle had formed. Not one of them doing anything to help. I couldn’t hear a kind or sympathetic word being uttered. No warm hand. No words of comfort. What was wrong with these people? Little Town people. My people.

‘It’s your new mate,’ someone said to me as I fought my way through the circle.

‘He looks finished,’ said another.

‘Serves him right,’ the first voice said. I didn’t even see their faces. My eyes defaulted to tunnel vision mode,
exactly the same eyes as when I was inside The Big Man’s mine.

Then I saw him.

Little Pav.

My mate, Pav.

Lying in the foetal position.

In a ball.

Tight.

Huddled up.

Trying to protect himself.

Came to Little Town for a better life and here he was lying in a heap, blood trickling out of his ear, nose, mouth and head. Black-and-blue eyes. Swollen. His body shaking. Everyone watching but no one doing a thing. No fingers being lifted. Nothing. All watching the best movie in town. If ever there was a swear moment – not like previous swear moments – this WAS it. I didn’t, I couldn’t, hold it in.

‘Why are you all just fucking standing there? Get some fucking help!’ I screamed.

The circle got wider. Less enclosed. People were doing what I’d said. Scared of my voice, my new voice. A voice that shocked even me.

‘Go, beat it!’ I shouted.

Oh, how I wished The Big Man’s guns were tucked inside my trousers. I’d blow them all into next week.

I wiped my eyes and nose and knelt down. I put my hands
on his body. It shook. I picked him up a little, held him close to me.

‘Pav, it’s me. It’s Charlie.’

My hands reached under his head, his blood-matted head. I couldn’t see a major cut or laceration. Still.

‘Pav, it’s Charlie.’

Pav was all over the place: dazed and dizzy. I slid my jacket under his head and tried to keep him warm. I’ve seen people do that in films. Surely Mum couldn’t skelp me for bogging up my jacket in these circumstances?

The circle was no more. Just Mercy standing. Watching. Still chalk-white. Still shaking. Face etched with worry. For Pav.

‘You’re going to be OK, Pav. Promise,’ Mercy said.

‘You’re going to be fine, mate,’ I said.

His eyes had that rabbit stare about them. I looked into them, not in the staring-game way though. I wish. He blinked too much. His trousers were ripped at the knee. He coughed twice.

‘You’re going to be just fine,’ Mercy said.

‘Totally fine,’ I said.

How did I know for sure? I was no medicine man; I had no qualifications. All I had was my gut. There’s no way I should’ve been telling anyone that they were going to be OK, especially when they were lying in a pile of cuts with a head injury. But I was his mate, his only mate, so it was my duty to tell him that he was going to be fine.

‘He’s going to be fine, isn’t he, Mercy?’ I heard my voice rattle.

‘You’re going to be totally fine, Pav,’ she said.

I took out a hanky and wiped the blood from his nose and ear. The blood from his eyebrow had already clotted. Warm water required for that one. When I got him to sit up the colour returned and his eyes seemed to focus. He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva on the ground. We sat there in the yard as if we were fishing. Pav muttered words in his own lingo, words that weren’t very nice I’d imagine. I didn’t speak. Just sitting with him was enough. I shared a look with Mercy. Pav spat again and tried to pull blood from his nose.

‘There you go, Pav,’ Mercy said, handing him one of her hankies. A real one that you’d need to wash afterwards. The letters ML embroidered in the corner. Somehow I don’t think Mercy wanted it back.

‘Thanking you,’ Pav said, handing the hanky back to Mercy.

‘No. No. You keep it, Pav. Hold on to it; you might need it again,’ Mercy said.

‘You OK, buddy?’ I said.

‘I OK. I OK,’ he said.

‘I can take you to the school nurse if you want?’ Mercy said.

‘I no need nurse,’ Pav said.

‘As a precaution,’ Mercy said. Pav looked confused. ‘Just to be on the safe side.’

‘It might be a good idea, mate,’ I said.

‘You’ve got some cuts,’ Mercy pointed out.

Pav put his hand up to his head.

‘Bastards,’ Pav muttered, then began to say something again in his lingo.

More spitting on the ground; it wasn’t to get rid of the blood this time though.

‘We need to get you checked out and cleaned up,’ I said.

‘That would be my recommendation, Pav,’ Mercy said.

‘Where is nurse?’ Pav asked.

‘Just in there.’ Mercy pointed to the main doors of the school. We all looked. I had seen neither head nor tail of any nurse since we returned less than a week ago. The old nurse’s room had been flattened, but I assumed there would be someone who knew first aid.

‘You should really go, Pav,’ I said. ‘Just in case.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Mercy said. ‘If that’s OK with you, Charlie?’

Why wouldn’t it have been?

‘Of course it’s OK,’ I said.

‘OK, I go,’ Pav said.

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Mercy said.

We helped him to his feet.

I watched them walk towards the school building. Mercy guiding him. Her hand an inch away from Pav’s waist. They never touched, but they were almost clinging on to one another.

I remained in the empty yard, looking at the splashes of blood on the ground. Where were the teachers? Where was the concern? Where was all this protecting the students crap?

I needed a chat with Norman or The Big Man. Sort this mess out.

Pav hadn’t been back to school since the incident. That day I took him home from school on the bus and helped him to his door. His mum looked like thunder the moment she saw him. And me.

‘Thank you, Charlie, for to bring him home,’ she said coolly, her eyes flashing blue as Pav’s.

She put her hand on his broken face and tenderly led him in, slamming the door in mine. To be fair, he looked like shit – even his baby blue blinders were red and bloodshot, and he might’ve cracked a rib or two – but I didn’t think there was any permanent damage. Through the door I heard his mum speaking in Old Country lingo. Even though I didn’t understand a word, her harsh throaty sounds made clear her feelings about Little Town people.

This badly needed sorting out.

Norman didn’t see the need to go to school any more.
School is for major losers who just go on to work for the man when they’re finished, so what’s the point of that, eh, Charlie?
I found this a bit rich coming from Norman, considering that he really did work for The Man. Just a slightly bigger man than your average one. A waste because he could be smart when he put his mind to it. In reality Norman had decided to become a worker for the Regime, a kind of Rascal resistance fighter. He got the message that I needed to see him, though. He turned up on the Saturday after Pav took his beating.

My arse was making buttons when Norman appeared at the shed. I was getting the place shipshape for Erin F’s visit the following week, my birthday, and I was worried because she hadn’t been in school the previous day (the invasion really seemed to be affecting people’s attendance). I was busy scrubbing the floor when the door rattled.

‘This place is the bollocks, Charlie.’ I was going to invite him to plonk his bum but Norman beat me to it, chucking his chunky frame into one of the chairs and resting his arms on each side like he was testing it out. I looked at his boots to see if he was muck-carrying. He was. Brilliant!

‘You like it?’ I said.

‘I do.’ Norman gave the shed the once-over.

‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘It’d make a brilliant shagging pad.’

Now was not the time to tell him that I saw it as a cross between a study area, a chill-out space and a lads’ den. Oh, I almost forgot. It could also be a place to hide full metal jackets. Did Norman know? He was The Big Man’s top youngster after all; surely he’d have known.

Keep the trap shut, Charlie.

Norman’s eyes scoured the place.

HE KNOWS, DOESN’T HE? THAT’S WHAT HE’S CASING THE PLACE FOR. HE KNOWS.

Ssssshhhhh, he knows shit all.

‘Yeah, I’d say you and Pav have done all right with this place, Charlie.’

‘We like it,’ I said, which didn’t sound quite right.

‘We
like
it – is it like that?’ Norman said with a funny voice and even funnier look in his eye. ‘I bet you do
like it
.’

I decided not to be the fish to his bait.

‘Erin F’s coming round next Saturday.’

‘Erin F, eh?’ His eyes lit up. Whose didn’t when her name was mentioned? ‘Are you riding her or something?’

Erin F. Me. Riding. All in the same sentence. In my dreams.

‘Erm … no … she’s a mate, Norman … It’s my birthday. She’s just coming round to see the shed and chill and stuff.’

‘How’s her mum doing? Still knocking on death’s door?’

‘Erm, I think she’s still the same,’ I said. ‘Erin F doesn’t talk about her too much.’

‘Aw, well. We all have bad shit going on in our lives,’ Mr Insensitive said.

‘Yeah …’

‘Anyway, hippy happy birthday, mate. If I’d known I’d have brought a prezzie with me.’

God only knows what.

‘Aw, no worries, Norman. Even my mum and dad’ll barely remember this year.’

Norman shuffled on the chair. The chair that was on top of the floorboard. The floorboard that was on top of the hidden steel. The steel that was on top of my mind. One false move and he’d have no arse left to sit on. The thought of it made me smile.

‘Heard about little Pav, by the way.’

The smile flew away.

‘Who told you?’

Norman grimaced.

‘I mean, since you no longer go to school, Norman. How did you know?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Charlie. Do you think I’d never have heard?’

‘Suppose you would have,’ I said.

‘I’ll tell you what though …’

‘What?’

‘If you’d asked me I’d have said straight away that it was Max and Bones that done it. No doubt.’ Norman shook his
head and whispered, ‘Couple of fannies,’ to himself. I couldn’t disagree.

‘Yeah, they left him in a pretty bad way.’

‘How is he now?’

‘He’s fine, but he was shaken up by it. I think he’s scared to go back to school. He doesn’t think it’s safe for him any more.’

‘Cos he’s Old Country?’

‘Something like that.’

‘But he’s decent Old Country, isn’t he? Refugee Old Country. He’s not like those pricks on patrol. He’s not part of any occupation.’