The Bombs That Brought Us Together (23 page)

There was a pause.

No
Hello, Charlie
.

No
Come away in, son.

Nothing.

Just two piercing eyes. Nightmare stuff. My legs jiggled inside my trousers.

‘Is Pav in?’ I said again. Mrs Duda swallowed her saliva. Perhaps I should have brought a present – grapes or a book. No, not a book. Some apples?

The seconds seemed like minutes. It wasn’t a lingo thing. Mrs Duda knew perfectly well what I wanted. Maybe she thought that I was just like the rest of the Little Towners. Maybe she blamed me for not protecting her son better at school. No point in asking again. I turned to leave. My left leg was about to make its move when the door swung open. Mrs Duda shifted her body and allowed me to walk past.

‘In there,’ she said, nodding to the living room door, which was closed. I could hear the faint sound of the telly from the other side. Their house was exactly the same as ours. Well, almost. Ours smelt different. Very different. The smell in Pav’s house smashed me in the face as soon as Mrs Duda let me in. It was a combined mix of fustiness, dampness and cabbage. An Old Country speciality? It was exciting and scary to be in Pav’s house for the first time. I think he was embarrassed about inviting me in. I can understand why.

‘Maybe you make him smile, Charlie,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll try,’ I said.

‘He not happy.’

‘I know.’

‘He want go back.’

‘To school?’

‘To Old Country.’

‘Old Country? Why?’

‘You talk with him, you see,’ she said.

Pav obviously heard us chatting in the hallway and shouted something in his lingo to his mum, who shouted something in return. We did lots of shouting through doors in our block.

‘Go, go,’ Mrs Duda said, ushering me in.

Pav was lying spreadeagle on the couch, a minging brown velvety couch that looked as though it had taken the weight of an army over the years. An army who’d also trampled over the carpet, which made it appear bare in places. So much so that leather bits were splattered on the floor where carpet should have been. A star-shaped mirror hung over the fireplace. Pav was watching an old telly. I’m not sure it had a remote. There was a pink haze over the image. It didn’t seem to bother him; he just lay there glued to the screen. He must have thought I was his mum.

‘All right, Pav?’ I said.

‘Charlie, what you do here?’

Pav’s face was still bruised and swollen. There was still crusty blood on his top lip and right eye. He winced when he sat up. Boots to the ribs and jabs to the kidneys will do that. My shiner was nothing in comparison. I wanted to tell him the news. To share with him the craziness of it. For him to
help me get out of the situation. For us to work it out together. I wanted him to know that I held his destiny in the palm of my hand. I said nothing.

‘What happen your face?’ Pav asked.

‘Oh, this,’ I said, touching the bruise. ‘I only slipped in the shed, didn’t I? Banged it off the desk. Idiot.’ I could tell Pav didn’t believe me.

‘Idiot numpty,’ he said. ‘Why you here?’

‘I just popped in to see if you were OK.’

‘I OK. I OK,’ he said.

‘You haven’t been at school since the incident last week,’ I said.

If I’d been a better mate I’d have brought some work home from school so he wouldn’t be playing catch-up when he returned. Saying that, he’d have probably launched it at me or out the window.

‘I no go back.’

‘Maybe next week,’ I said.

‘I never return, Charlie.’

‘To school?’

‘Yes. I no go back.’

‘You can’t just not return, Pav.’

‘I do what I want. I no go back.’

‘But Max and Bones –’ I almost told him that The Big Man had intervened – ‘haven’t been at school since it happened.’

‘I don’t care of Max and Bones. School shit for me.’ Pav lay back down on the couch and put his eyes on the screen in front of him. I was half thinking of asking him what he was watching, but I couldn’t give two hoots.

I took a chunk of air into my lungs.

‘It’s been sorted, Pav. Max and Bones, they’ve been sorted,’ I said.

‘What mean sorted?’

‘Taken care of, been dealt with.’

‘You mean they dead?’ Pav said.

‘What? No. No, Pav. I didn’t say that. I’d say they were probably given a good talking-to, a verbal warning. Know what I mean? Not dead. I didn’t say dead. I didn’t mean dead.’

‘If not dead I no care.’

‘At least they won’t be bothering you again,’ I said. ‘They won’t be giving you any more shit at school.’

‘Not so true,’ Pav said, reaching around to his back pocket and pulling out a white piece of paper. He held it up to me. ‘Take.’

I snatched the paper from his hand.

‘What is this?’ I asked, opening up the four small square folds.

‘Read.’

I read the note.

Twice.

The sick litany of abuse and threats didn’t get any better the second time around. It made my bones boil.

‘It come few days ago.’

‘From who?’

‘We not know.’

‘Are you sure you’ve no idea who sent this, Pav?’

‘No idea.’

‘Has your mum or dad read this?’

‘No. Just me.’

‘Do you not think they should?’

‘No. This won’t happen, Charlie.’

‘But this is …’ I held the note up towards Pav.

‘Our life in Little Town,’ he said.

‘No, I mean, it’s dangerous. Maybe you could give it to someone in a position of authority?’ I said.

Pav laughed, scrunched up his face and rubbed his ribs. ‘You funny guy, Charlie. Yes, let’s take to police here,’ he said sarcastically.

‘Do you think this was Max and Bones?’ I said, holding aloft the note.

‘I not know; could be.’

‘I don’t think so, Pav. Too advanced for those two.’ I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Pav kept it gloomy. ‘I mean, the level of words in it is way too advanced and the spelling is spot on, so probably not them,’ I said. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Maybe The Big Man. Maybe Norman. Everybody hate people like us, so could be anyone. Could be Old Country patrol.’ Pav’s eyes fixed on mine.

‘It wasn’t me, Pav. Do you think it was me?’

‘No.’

‘Jeez, for a minute I thought that you thought that …’

‘You good guy, Charlie. I know you.’

‘I don’t think it was The Big Man; he likes you.’

Pav shook his head and sniggered.

‘He hate all things Old Country.’

I was going to say
Not true
but thought better of it.

‘Want me to hang on to it?’ I said, holding the note up. ‘I could do some detective work, try to see who did it.’

‘What is point?’

‘Well …’ I didn’t really have a point.

‘I want get hell out of Little Town, so no point.’

‘Get out? Where?’

‘I not yet know.’

‘But out of Little Town is dangerous, Pav.’

‘For you. Not me. This place dangerous for me.’

‘What about your mum and dad?’

‘They stay here; they say same as you.’

‘What about … ?’ It was on the tip of my tongue to say something about his sister, how I’d seen her, how she could maybe help him, make all their lives a lot better here, but Pav beat me to it.

‘They want stay for my sister. They think she can help them in Little Town.’

‘Have they been talking to her?’

‘No, but Mum want to find her. They speak about all time. All day. Sister. Sister. Sister. My nut is done, Charlie.’

‘And you? Do you want to meet with her again?’

‘I say she still bastard like she was in Old Country. I want go different place. Far away from here.’

Pav stared at the floor, ran his hands through his growing, unwashed hair, put them over his face like he was trying to hold in a huge sneeze. They stayed on his face for ages. His shoulders went up and down. His knees shook. He sniffed loudly. Then this huge howl came. Just one. His shoulders began to move quicker. Galloping pace. If you didn’t know better you’d have thought he was suffering a shivering spell. I didn’t know what to do. If I should sit next to him, put my arm around his shaking bones, pull him close and tightly hug the life out of him. I didn’t know what the hell’s fire to do. I froze. I did nothing. I didn’t even have a hanky in my pocket. Once more I read the note that he’d given me. I folded up the squares and put it back in my pocket. Then I took the bull by the horns.

‘It’ll be OK, Pav.’

‘No, it not.’ He sounded like a baby.

‘Come on, little man. It will get better soon, you’ll see.’

‘I no see.’

I put one hand on his back. His sniffs were louder, harder.

‘Everything will blow over. Give it a week or so.’

‘I want leave, Charlie. I hate here.’

‘Life’s slowly getting better; the school will be rebuilt soon and some of the shops are reopening, so there’ll be food. Proper food.’

‘No more school. No more Little Town. I go now.’

My thoughts shifted to Pav’s mum. Was she listening? Did she know her son was in bits? Was this normal behaviour? Everyday stuff? Was Pav having some sort of breakdown? What does someone having a breakdown even look like?

‘It’ll be OK, Pav. Honestly. If we stick together it’ll be OK,’ I said.

‘It never be OK here.’

‘I’ll look after you, Pav. Promise I will.’

Pav looked up at me. His baby blue blinders were surrounded by an explosion of red spiderwebs. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for knowing what I knew. Knowing what I was capable of doing. Knowing that The Big Man really did have me by the short and curlies.

‘No!’ He was deadly serious.

‘No?’

‘You need look after you, Charlie. This is dodgy place.’

‘But we’re mates,’ I said.

‘You must to forget me.’

‘Don’t be …’ I was about to say stupid, but I stopped myself, knowing how much Pav hated to be called stupid. And that’s one thing he wasn’t.

‘I serious, Charlie. Forget all.’

‘Don’t talk like that, Pav.’

‘It what I want.’

‘What about school?’

‘I say before. I no go there again.’

‘What about the shed, our shed; can we keep going there?’

‘You go, Charlie. I leave.’

‘But you can’t just leave.’

‘I can to leave.’ Pav thudded himself in the chest. Each word got its own beat.

I stood up, removed the note yet again and held it out.

‘What about this? Want me to see if anyone knows anything?’

‘You keep. I no care.’

Pav smiled. He held out his hand for me to take it. Our hands met. Both our hands were so clammy that they slipped as we went up and down two times.

‘Good to meet, Charlie. You top guy, no numpty or dickhead person.’

‘Erm … thanks, Pav,’ I said.

He shouted something in his lingo and before you could say
See you later
the door was swung open and his mum was waiting to escort me out. It was like I had been in a dream as
I headed for the front door. A bad dream. Was I really saying goodbye to Pav?

When I went into my room I sat on the bed and played the bad dream over and over in my mind. But it wasn’t a dream because I still had Pav’s note buried deep in my pocket. I read it another time. Unbelievable. I never wanted to read that note again, those awful threats. I needed to erase it from my memory. Tell no one about its contents, and I mean NO ONE. The Big Man’s note was in my other pocket. I didn’t need to read that again either.

I’d give Pav a few days before seeing if he’d settled down any. My thinking was that once all the bruises had disappeared he would. I was glad I didn’t mention anything about The Big Man’s plan. That might have sent him over the edge. He’d have joined me in peeking over it, at the least.

The following day, Wednesday, I awoke from a rubbish sleep and wished I’d told Pav everything. Grassed. Ratted. Squealed. I think Pav could have done something to help me; he was the only chance left.

I didn’t want to get out of bed, but school awaited me. I couldn’t face it. I hated taking days off, but really, I couldn’t face it.

‘Good God in heaven, Charlie.’ Mercy Lewis’s mouth nearly hit the deck of the bus. Her hand rose up to the gap she’d left. ‘Don’t tell me that was Max and Bones as well?’

Mum didn’t let me stay at home on the Wednesday – and, as much as I didn’t have the stomach for it, it was back to school. By the Wednesday morning the shiner had gone down a bit, yet it was still eye-catching.

‘No, Mercy, it wasn’t Max and Bones.’

‘Did someone smack you?’

‘No.’

‘It looks as if someone smacked you, Charlie.’

‘No one smacked me, Mercy. I slipped in my shed and fell into a table. No big deal,’ I said.

‘You slipped in your shed?’

‘Crazy, isn’t it?’

‘Who slips in a shed?’ I could tell that she wasn’t buying it.

‘Well, me for a start. Totally stupid thing to do, eh?’

‘Very.’

‘Is it really noticeable?’ I asked.

‘Is that a trick question, Charlie?’

‘No, I was just –’

‘How’s Pav?’

I was glad of the deflection. But I couldn’t tell her the truth – that Pav was broken and desperate to escape our horrible town.

‘Still majorly peed off about what happened to him.’

‘I’d say he is.’

‘And he’s still a bit battered and bruised.’

‘Poor thing,’ she said.

‘I can’t believe those two eejits got away with it.’

‘Don’t worry, Mercy. They didn’t,’ I said.

This was a case of the tongue wagging before the brain engaged. Of course Mercy picked up on my big-mouth moment.

‘What do you mean?’ She sat herself upright in her seat. ‘Has something happened to them? Did they get suspended or anything like that? I haven’t seen them in school.’

‘No … I mean … they probably won’t get away with it. I think Pav’s parents have been on to the school and they’ve said that they’re going to do something about it,’ I lied.

‘I bet the school’ll probably side with Max and Bones,’ Mercy said.

‘You think?’

‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. Is it?’

‘Two reasons why …’

‘Which are?’