The Norway Room (12 page)

There was even a tie, neatly rolled in the pocket of the trousers. Stripes. Dark blue, light blue. He put it on but left it loose. He waited for the trembling to stop, then went downstairs.

Kieran's anger was gone. ‘Sit down, Ash.' Kieran indicated the settee, ‘I want to talk to you.' Kieran pulled a chair from beside the table and, placing it right in front of Ashley, its back towards the boy, sat astride it.

I'm trapped, Ashley thought.

Kieran took his cigarettes from inside his jacket, gave one to Ashley, put the other in his mouth, lit them both. Ashley inhaled deeply. Expensive fags. Nice. Kieran exhaled. There was a veil of smoke between them. Kieran let it clear. ‘Someone told me the government is going to ban smoking,' Ashley started. ‘They're not, are they?'

‘Shut up and listen, Ash. This is important. I'm not sending you back to school. The uniform's not for that. We've got a little job for you. We want you to help us with something.' Kieran paused. Ashley said nothing, but waited.

‘Something's on next week. In town. And we want you to help us. Nothing much. You just have to hang around. I'll show you where next week. It's a little alley. Pricey will come and give you something. You put it in your schoolbag. You can use your own.' Kieran saw the look on the boy's face. ‘You must have a schoolbag? What did you use for your books? Your kit? Shit, Ash, no wonder you're fucking thick. Well I'll get you a schoolbag. As soon as Pricey gives it to you, you stick it in the bag, under your books. I'll get you some of those as well. And I'll tell you what to do next on the day. It'll just be catching a bus and meeting me. Simple. I'll take the bag from you and drop you off here. You skip out of the uniform and I'll take it away and torch it. Job done.'

He waited. Ashley said nothing. ‘You'll never have to wear school uniform again. Promise.' Still Ashley said nothing. ‘You owe us, Ash. I got you out of school, got the social workers off your back. They think you're in Ireland. With your uncle. You owe Crawford, Ash. He let's you stay here. Don't forget that. That's how these things work. And we'll see you all right afterwards.'

Still Ashley said nothing. He didn't know what to say. He was thinking.

‘I'll go through all this with you properly next week. I don't know which day yet. But you don't go anywhere. Got it? You stay here all next week. Got it? You're on call.' He grinned. ‘Like a fucking doctor.' Then the grin was gone. ‘You stay put till this is done. Understand?'

Ashley nodded. ‘Yeah.' Then he asked the question. ‘What is it Pricey's going to give me, Key? A package? Will it be heavy?'

‘Don't worry about that now. And no, it won't be heavy.'

‘Is it money?'

‘Leave it, Ash.'

It seemed to Ashley then that the room had gone very quiet, almost as if there was an echo to their voices. ‘Is it a gun? Is that what he'll give me? Is that what I'm collecting for you? A gun?'

‘I said don't worry about that.' Kieran rammed his cigarette into his mouth. Ashley could hear Kieran inhale, and when he had exhaled he heard him say, quietly, but very clearly, into the smoke, ‘Yeah. It's a gun, Ash.'

When Kieran had gone, Ashley went up to his room and took the school uniform off and very carefully hung everything over the back of his chair. He wished he had a photo of his mom now. He would have liked to look at it. But there wasn't one. He wished he had her to talk to. But she was gone. Get over it, he told himself; like he'd told himself lots of times before. Like the Weasel had told him.

Ashley went downstairs. The chair Kieran had used was still in front of the settee. Ashley put it back beside the table. He brushed crumbs off the settee, then curled up in the corner of it. This was where the dog used to lie. He sniffed the fabric, but you couldn't smell her any more. He took his phone from his pocket and went through his messages. Four unopened. All from the Weasel. The last, weeks ago. He deleted them. Put the phone away. And started to cry.

20

Sophie was pissed off with him. ‘You promised.'

‘I will. But not next week.'

‘Why not?'

‘I told you. I just can't. The week after for definite. Or maybe the end of next week. It depends.'

‘On what?'

‘Things.'

‘Fuck you then.' He imagined her pouting like she always did when she was pissed off; her hair swinging. ‘You needn't bother.' She rang off.

He tried to call her back but got voicemail. Shit. If he said next week, it was bound to be the time Kieran would want him. Sod's law. Like his dad always said. He tried to ring her back again, and again, but only got her voicemail. He texted:
lets go now.
She texted him back:
fuck off. Il get someone else.
He texted:
lets go now.
She texted him back:
fuck off.
He texted:
lets go now.
She texted him back:
meet at funi shp 11.

There is a sculpture outside the maternity section of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. Large. Enormous really. Modern. Like a woman and baby were growing out of, curling out of, this great piece of rock.

Sophie stood looking up at it, smiling. Tiny before it. ‘D'you like it?'

‘Yeah, it's all right. That's better.' Ashley turned to the construction site behind them. If the sculpture was enormous, there wasn't a word for the scale of this site. You could see nothing else. A network of scaffolding and ladders, forming dozens of cells in which men in coloured hard hats worked. Like bees in a hive. He could have stayed there looking and looking for ages. Blokes climbing ladders, sawing wood, lifting, hammering, leaning against scaffolding talking, like on the deck of a ship. And above it all, the cranes. Ashley loved the cranes. Rising and dipping, busy and steady against the cold blue sky.

They went into the reception of Maternity. There was a large waiting area. Lots of chairs. Like school assembly chairs, plastic, but with a padded bit for your bum. ‘Useless for pregnant women,' Sophie tutted, like she was an expert.

An Indian woman was being admitted. Her husband was holding her up as a woman behind the desk took her details. A nurse came with a wheelchair and the woman sat in it. The nurse stroked the woman's arm. The woman tried to smile. Sophie watched as the woman was wheeled towards a lift, her husband following. Sophie watched a doctor in a turban and a man with a trolley leaving another lift, another opening to a woman with a tiny baby in her arms. She looked happy. A group of people in the waiting room rushed across to her, cooing over the baby. The woman started to cry. Sophie watched, and Ashley watched her watching.

He took her to the café and bought her a Coke and a Mars Bar. It was full of builders on their break, having cups of tea, eating sandwiches. At one table there was an old bloke in pyjamas and a dressing gown having a cup of tea with a young woman. ‘Do you think that's his daughter, or his bit of stuff?' Sophie giggled.

‘I dunno, do I? Daughter, I suppose.'

Sophie stroked her belly. ‘It's funny. Thinking that I'm going to go up in that lift, and come down with a baby.'

The builders got up to leave and returned their cups to the counter. Ashley could see some of them getting cigarettes out of their overall pockets ready for a smoke outside.

‘So are you going to tell me what you're doing next week that's so important?' There was a gleam in her eye. Ashley knew she would nag him until he told her.

‘I'm going back to school.'

‘No?'

‘Yeah. I decided. Get educated.'

Sophie laughed. ‘You're taking the piss. Really? You mean it?'

‘Yeah.'

On the bus home she leaned in to him. ‘Ta for taking me. It's been good. I feel okay now. So ta. And your hair looks cool.'

‘Yeah. You said.'

‘Well I'm saying again. Is it for school? Is that why you had it done?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Cool. It makes you better-looking. And now the swelling's gone your nose is better as well. Cheaper than plastic surgery.'

Ashley looked into the mirror. It was him. And it wasn't him. Of course it was him. No, it wasn't. Nothing like him. The uniform wasn't new, but it looked smart. White shirt, properly white. Ironed. A tie, pressed grey trousers, clean shoes. He looked stupid. No – just different. He put the glasses he had found in the jacket pocket back on. Weird. Sort of cool, but mostly weird. It was him, and it wasn't him. He could never be the kid in the glass. He knew his voice didn't sound like his. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. It was him, and it wasn't.

It was like meeting someone new. Who was he, this kid? Posh? He would be good at school, could read and write. Probably good at maths too. Ashley noticed the room the boy was standing in. Not right, not right at all. And he tried to imagine the sort of home he had. His mother. Then he stopped the thoughts and took the uniform off. Folded it well. Put his tracksuit bottoms and T-shirt back on. His hoodie. Looked again. He was back. It was him. A dirty kid in a dirty room. A scruff. He took his dirty clothes off. Looked at his puny white body in the mirror. Hated it. Hated it. This was him. Hated it. He put a pair of jeans and a jumper on and took his dirty clothes down to the kitchen to wash in the sink. He used washing-up liquid; just as good. Kettles of boiling water. The kitchen filled with steam. Like a sauna. That's what they say. His nan used to say that when it was steamy –
like a sauna in here
. His hands stung as he rubbed away at his clothes. Then he dried them in front of the gas fire. Over a chair. He had to keep turning them. Like cooking steak. Keep turning, don't let it burn. The thought made him laugh. When they were nearly dry, he folded them, rubbing them hard with his hand, pressing them flat to get the creases out. He ought to nick an iron.

Then he put the immersion heater on. Had a bath, as hot as he could stand. A very hot bath could make a pregnant girl come on. That's what they said. When the water got cold he got out. He put the uniform on again. Looked. And looked.
Is it maths next, sir? I'm going to the library
. His mouth opened but nothing came out. You see, it wasn't him. He wanted to laugh, but he couldn't do that either. It was only nine o'clock but he went to bed.

Sunday Karl came round. Knocking on the back door before Ashley had time to do anything. Karl could see him through the kitchen window. There was nothing Ashley could do but let him in. ‘Why you wearing that?'

‘I'm going to a new school now.' Karl followed Ashley into the kitchen. ‘Or I am next week anyway. Don't tell anyone though. It's a special school.'

‘Special?'

‘Leaning difficulties. D'you want some toast?'

‘Nah. Why you wearing it today?'

‘I'm going to see my dad. He texted me:
Look smart
. This is all I got.'

‘You look different.'

‘How d'you mean?'

‘I don't know. Different. You don't look like you. Your hair's different. You look different.'

‘Good different?'

Karl didn't really understand the question. ‘Just different.' Karl walked into the living room. ‘Who's living here with you?'

‘Nobody. Just me. On me tod.'

Karl looked round again. ‘It's cleaner than it used to be.'

‘I had a tidy-up.'

There was the sound of helicopters approaching outside, low. The boys went out into the yard. ‘Fucking low.' They watched one circle. A pair of binoculars would have shown you the pilot's face. ‘They're heading for the Mendy,' Karl said. The noise was changing as the machines got smaller in the sky.

‘There's always choppers flying over it,' Ashley replied. ‘Like living in a fucking airport up there.' The boys went back inside.

‘I'm going to put me trackies on.'

Upstairs Ashley looked at himself in the mirror again before removing the uniform. He'd found a clothes hanger and now kept it on that.

When Ashley came downstairs Karl was sitting hunched up on the settee, his hands in the pocket of his coat.

‘You cold?'

‘Not really.'

‘D'you want to play a game? On the computer.'

‘Not really.'

Ashley sat down beside his friend. Waited.

‘Have you watched the news?' Karl asked.

‘No.'

Karl said nothing.

‘Why? What's happened?'

‘Our Wesley.' He paused, swallowed. ‘It was on the news.'

Ashley realised. ‘Oh shit!' He waited for Karl to say more, but nothing came. ‘Is he injured?'

‘No.'

Ashley didn't know what to say. The two boys sat in silence. Then Karl sniffed, he was sort of crying.

‘When?'

‘Friday. He was shot on Friday. They came to tell my mom on Friday night.'

‘Oh shit.'

‘Through the head. And the shoulder. Another bloke as well. Two of them. The other bloke's not dead though. He got it in the chest.' Each word came slowly. Each word took effort. ‘They're bringing him to Selly Oak. The alive one.'

Ashley wanted to say something. He wasn't sure exactly what you should say, but he had to say something. Briefly, very briefly, he wondered how the kid in the uniform would handle this. ‘Shit, Karl. That's a real bastard.' He'd heard his dad say things like that, but it didn't really sound right. ‘I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.' Karl looked down. Ashley left it a moment, then, ‘How's your mom doing?' That sounded right.

It took Karl a while to answer; he was trying, Ashley could tell, but it was hard. ‘Bad. Very bad,' he managed at last and then the tears took him and he started to cry, a soft snivelly crying, without sobs.

Ashley wished he had some coke. He'd had some yesterday that Kieran had given him, but it was all gone. He got some weed from a kitchen drawer – the next best thing. He rolled the spliff in the kitchen, and took it in to Karl. ‘Here, mate. Make you feel better.'

Karl pulled at it like water. Ashley watched the smoke leave his mouth. Streams of it. He pulled again. ‘It was on the news.' Smoke left Karl's mouth with the words. ‘A photo of him as well. But not of the injured soldier. They never even mentioned his name. Just of Wesley. That's policy. They just give the name and rank of the dead. Not the injured. Maddocks has been on the phone to my mom. The telly wants to talk to him. About what Wesley was like at school. For
Midlands Today
. Tomorrow.'

‘I'll watch it.'

Now Karl lifted his head and looked at Ashley. He rubbed the back of his hand across his nose.

‘D'you want some bog roll?'

‘Ta.'

Karl had recovered a little when Ashley returned from the bathroom with a handful of tissue. Karl wiped his face. Blew his nose.

Ashley lit another joint. Made some coffee. Sometimes Karl talked, sometimes he didn't. Ashley felt sorry for Karl and for his mom, he liked her, she had always been nice to him, had him over for Christmas dinner last year, but he was also pleased at the way he was reacting, helping his friend; he knew he was doing it right, just like the other kid would.

Karl couldn't stop talking now. ‘My mom wouldn't go to church this morning. She's never missed before. Ever. The pastor came round. He was being nice and comforting us. Then my mom just gets up and starts marching round the room. Fucking Iraq, she says. Then again. Fucking Iraq. I never heard her swear in my life before. She'd swipe Wesley or me for swearing less than that. The pastor didn't know what to say.' And now Karl was laughing. Really laughing. Like it was comedy television. Then he stopped. Leaned back. ‘That's why I came here. To get out.'