Waving Not Drowning VI

The next evening after work I went for a spot of shopping. The Kings Mall Shopping centre was teeming with people all walking in different directions burdened with enormous plastic carrier bags, which would one day be worn by drowning humpback whales in Antarctica. I stopped outside Jessops in the shopping centre and looked at the display of cameras. I wondered whether they sold binoculars, with binoculars I would be better able to see the kids down below and monitor their activities. I went in and asked an assistant and ended up buying the cheapest pair they had.
Tonight I would start my investigation in earnest.

Around eight o’ clock that night, after plumping up the sofa and getting it as comfy as possible, I noticed there was a small huddle of kids down in the courtyard and they seemed to be standing over something. I made sure all the lights were switched off and then got the binoculars out. But I really couldn’t see anything except for what looked like the reflection of my own eyes and some really enormous eyelashes. I tried switching a small light on and it was slightly better. If I aimed them out the window and then twiddled with the knob at the side, I could see a grey hood and then a bit of hair tied up with what looked like a tartan scrunchie. It was almost too close to see anything properly and still too dark. Then I focused in on what looked like a small fire in the middle of the gathering. Now I really wished I’d got some special night vision ones like in Silence of the Lambs because the view was pretty rubbish. With a naked eye it was actually better, I could see Grey. He looked a bit out of sorts and was sitting on a bench like he wasn’t really part of the group. Every now and then he’d clasp his hands around the back of his neck and rub his shoulders as if he was tense. I also recognised Nice Eyes, he was holding something that glowed at one end and then next to him there were a couple of girls who had impossibly straight hair, maybe extensions and the one with the tartan scrunchie was laughing her head off at something. Grey was probably telling them about my attempt at street talk.

Just thinking about this started the cringing effect so I tried to distract myself by getting a big glass of water from the kitchen. Water really wasn’t strong enough and I missed having something else at my disposal. As I settled back into my position, I worried that maybe they could see me but also felt quite justified in my spying because it was increasingly obvious that they weren’t brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed. Just at that moment Grey turned and looked up. I was convinced he’d seen me, my heart suddenly jumped but then he looked back at the fire that was quickly growing bigger by the second. One of the girls threw something into the flames and they all huddled in again. Then boredom seemed to settle in and a couple of them wandered off and I couldn’t really see what they were up to.

Lots of light emanated from the other flats, in some windows people were cooking, in others the blue glow of television screens flickered. What was clear was that no one had noticed or cared about the fire. Was I strange? I switched the lights on and then the TV but it took longer than usual to find something to take my mind of things. Eventually I settled on a new show where dog owners were made over to look like their pets. It wasn’t entirely successful but soon enough I forgot the kids and managed to ignore the increasingly vivid glow radiating upwards from the courtyard.

That night I dreamt my Mum was standing next to the fire. She was throwing all of my books including my Womble Annual in and then my Dad joined her and threw some old wine bottles and my favourite Snoopy pyjamas into the flames.
Remember remember remember he said his face bathed in the orangey glow.

I slept through my alarm and woke up with only twenty minutes to get ready.

That morning it finally felt like winter was going and spring was on its way and perhaps life as Chief barista was not so bad. And tomorrow I would see Phil. Maybe I’d enjoy watching him play in the band and he’d show a lot more interest in me and not chat up other girls hanging around backstage. But as I walked a couple of steps away from the flat, I stopped. Something about three centimetres across and black was lying on the pavement. At first glance, it looked like a small leaf but as I bent down to study it more intently, I noticed it had an odd texture and little indentations on the surface. The closer I looked the more apparent it became that this was fish. Its body was charred black but its tiny eyes were still visible. Stuck on the side of its head one of them stared straight up at me. I felt a bit ill but was also horribly fascinated so I leaned in further still. Which meant that when I stood up again I was surprised to see Grey who was standing no more than a foot away from me.
‘Shame about that,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked without really thinking.
‘It don’t look good.’
‘What is it?’ I asked but I already knew.
‘What do you think it is?’ he said squinting at me.
‘Did you have something to do with it?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
‘You need to watch yourself,’ he said and then walked off towards the tube station without looking back.
‘Hey, what…’ but my voice trailed off.
I couldn’t really think of anything else to add.
I was standing next to a burnt fish and had just been threatened by a boy who was what maybe twelve? Thirteen at the most? Suddenly it had grown cold again. Spring wasn’t on its way at all. What was I thinking? I was clearly in a dead end job and living with a bunch of psychopathic children who wanted to do me in. I needed a big glass of water and more.

I tried to ring Ruth during my lunch break but she didn’t answer. So I went for my second option. There was a pause before Phil answered.
‘What’s up? You never ring at breakfast.’
‘It’s lunchtime.’
I could hear the TV blaring in the background. Now I had him on the phone I was struggling to find anything to say.
‘The band’s supporting The Waynes,’ he said.
‘That’s fantastic, well done,’ I said unconvincingly.
‘Do you want to come over tonight?’ he asked.
‘Okay,’ I said before I’d even thought about it.

Whatever happened I didn’t want to spend another evening with my binoculars strapped to my head. Maybe I was going mad. Or had Grey really seen me and was telling me I needed to watch myself rather than watch them? Perhaps the burnt fish was some sort of symbol like the mafia and horse’s heads. Maybe kids used fish to signify impending doom; they were cheaper and easier to get hold of. Maybe they were planning to set my flat on fire with me in it and I wouldn’t hear anything because my ears would be stuffed full of toilet roll.

I needed a change of scene even if it was just for a little while.

Phil lived in Kilburn in a flat that managed to be even more horrible than mine. I hadn’t noticed any kids hanging around but it was on the ground floor and looked out on block of flats which were half demolished. They’d cut the flats in half so you could still see the furnishings and wallpaper, even the odd abandoned sofa. It was a depressing sight. Then the flat next door was empty but the door was always half open. I imagined a peeing monster lived inside. Rivulets of wee constantly ran across the corridor and dripped down onto the grass below.

‘Nice to finally see ya,’ he said opening the door and giving me a half hearted hug.
I leant into him a bit too hard.
I realised I was happier to see him than I thought I’d be. He always looked better than I remembered. He was gangly yet graceful. He made things look elegant. His hair was artfully messy and he was wearing his regulation outfit of jeans and black T shirt. His feet were bare. He looked down at me as I buried my face into his chest.
‘You alright?’ he asked.
I nodded.

Now I was here I really didn’t want to tell him about the fish and the binoculars and all the things I was trying to escape. Besides we just didn’t have that kind of relationship. For all he knew I could have been going through chemotherapy. I could have been homeless. All he knew was I lived in Latimer Road and I worked in a coffee shop. He’d never been to the flat. We only met on his territory. I kidded myself I was happy this way.
‘Do you want some food?’ he asked as I followed him into the tiny kitchen which smelt of mildew and baked beans.
He quickly picked up two empty cans of beer and threw them into a giant plastic bag in the corner. He knew I didn’t drink but he never asked why.
‘Let’s have a cuddle,’ he said pulling me towards him.
Usually we at least pretended to talk for a bit.
‘In a minute,’ I said going into the only other room and sitting on the edge of the bed.
A large black and white photograph of Iggy Pop hung on the wall next to a stereo and an electric guitar.
‘Are you coming to the gig tomorrow?’ he asked offering me a cigarette.
‘I might do,’ I lied.
The truth was I wanted to go but knew that if I saw him tonight it didn’t make sense to see him a second night. He’d lose interest and I’d end up torturing myself about it and besides I hated his band anyway. Phil picked up a big pile of clothes off the end of the bed, deposited them on a chair which was already overflowing with socks and scrumpled up T-shirts and sat down next to me. He took a drag of cigarette then placed it in the ashtray.
‘It’s ace, we’re gonna go to Sheffield, Leeds, Manchester. We should get a good turn out.’
I turned my head and noticed he had a range of passport self portraits hanging on the wall beside the bed. In each he was pulling a different expression. I hadn’t seen them before. In some he looked as if he was biting the inside of his cheek. In others he was looking off to one side.
‘They’re my practice shots,’ he said following my gaze, ‘You know for when we get famous. Still need some practice. Which one do you think’s the best?’
He was proud rather than embarrassed. I leant in and studied each face, trying not to laugh. I thought about what Ruth would say. She already disliked Phil, thought he was vain and full of himself. This would be the final straw.
‘That one,’ I said.
He leant in to study it more carefully.
‘That one’s better,’ he said pointing to a shot where he was looking wistfully off to the side like he’d suddenly remembered he’d got some washing to do at home.

He pulled me to him and moved fast. My bra was on the chair on top of the T-shirts before I had even laid down properly. He had his eyes shut most of the time and kept making these little biting motions with his mouth and then at one stage he put his hand over my eyes which was actually better because then I couldn’t see him. Needless to say it wasn’t Jane Austen and within ten minutes it was finished and I was in the bathroom washing myself and pulling on my knickers.
It would be the last time I saw him.

Sitting on the top deck of the bus on the way home, I realised that I’d made a terrible mistake. I felt flat and empty. It was better off being alone wasn’t it? And he was growing more aloof not less. We never went out in public together. And when I’d said I wasn’t coming to see the gig he hadn’t even pretended to be disappointed or tried to persuade me.
I sent Ruth a text.
Phil is a complete arsehole.
Then less than a minute later I got one back.
Finally, it said.

It must have been ten o’ clock by the time I walked up my road. This time my stomach did a little leap as I came round the corner and clocked them standing outside my block. One of them, maybe Grey was doing wheelies on a bicycle whilst the others sat side by side on the wall. I instinctively clutched my mobile, running my fingers along the number pads trying to locate 9. I could easily call the police without even taking it out of my pocket and then maybe I’d just shout out my address so they could come straight away before they did me any damage and put me on the bonfire. I took a deep breath but one of them had spotted me.
‘Oi!’ Nice Eyes shouted.
I walked faster but I still had to walk behind them to get to my front door.
‘Yeah Check Yo’self!’ another one shouted.
‘Stupid bitch,’ one of the girls said flatly.
‘Hope you get a verruca and die,’ another one said.
I felt shocked at how easily they’d lapsed into abuse. And since when was a verruca a deadly disease? Tempted to correct her I opened my mouth and then realised that any attempt at playing teacher would only make me sound even more ridiculous. But weren’t there unspoken rules about being mean to neighbours? Like you didn’t shit on your own doorstep? The whole evening had turned into a complete disaster. I felt the telltale soreness in my throat that indicated I was going to cry. All I wanted to do was get inside, pour myself a big glass of water and oh it was useless.
‘Lend us a tenner,’ one of them shouted.
It wasn’t a question.
Nice Eyes was standing right in front of me, his hand outstretched. I only had about another couple of steps to go and then I could jam the key in the lock, throw the door open and get inside.
‘No,’ I mumbled and brushed past him, pulling the key out of my pocket.
‘Leave her,’ someone said.
I raised my key to the lock but realised it was the wrong one and was actually the Chubb lock key, so I paniced and tried to push my bicycle lock key in and then finally I found the one I was looking for, I could feel someone behind me. They smelt like Bacardi Breezer and fags.
‘Go on, I’ll give it back to you,’ the voice behind me said.
I could feel a tension in the small of my back. He was pushing something into me. It was a GUN! I bit my lip hard and turned around.
‘Don’t shoot me!’ I shouted into Nice Eyes face.
The kids jumped off the wall one by one and span around. Then as if in chorus they started laughing. Grey laughed so hard that he had to throw his bicycle down on the pavement. I looked and Nice Eyes’s hands were empty.
No gun.
No knife.
He pulled his hand up and with his fingers still in a gun shape put it against his head and pulled the trigger. He made a clicking sound with his teeth. I whipped around, turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, quickly slamming it behind me. I could hear them laughing as I ran up the stairs. I got to the second floor and saw that one of the neighbours doors was open. Their head popped round the door.
‘Are you okay?’ they asked.
It was a woman holding a frying pan in one hand as a weapon.
‘I’m okay,’ I said and continued up the stairs.
I was not okay.

Only when I closed the door to my flat did I allow myself to cry. My temples throbbed and I searched through the drawers looking for painkillers. Shoving three down my throat, and following it with a glass of milk, I could still hear their laughter echoing in my ears. I sat in the dark so they wouldn’t be able to see me. After about half an hour the painkillers had started to calm me down, at least so I could think straight.

Things were only going to get worse. No longer having a boyfriend was one thing but this was a case where it was clearly me or them. For some reason (was it because I’d stood up to them in the traffic cone incident?) they had singled me out. I’d read plenty of stories of people being too scared to go out of their homes because gangs of kids were threatening them. But I wasn’t going to give up and be intimidated. Maybe I’d hire a bodyguard? Maybe I’d get a cheap one if I went to one of the dodgy pubs in Kilburn and offered them a good deal? They’d only have to walk me home from work everyday and I could afford to pay them at least twenty quid. Doing a self-defence course was a waste of time. What was the point of whacking someone over the head with a rolled up newspaper or poking them in the eye when they had a gun? But did they really have guns? They’d known I’d thought it was a real one. They were playing with me.
Then it dawned on me.
It was perfectly obvious.
I needed to buy a gun of my own.