Jokes .3

The meowin’s comin from the tall bins at the bottom of the chute in a block of flats.

Here puss, puss.

I click my fingers.

I kneel but can’t see no cat. I move closer to the bins, which are taller than me, an I hear the meowin. I kick the brake off one an wheel it from under the chute. The steel sides are sticky with sludge an rat grossness an I have to hook my t-shirt over my nose. I grip the rim of the bin an push myself up an peer over the edge. A kitten is lookin back up at me, standin on bags of rubbish, meowin ta get the fuck out before it catches anthrax or somethin.

I drop down onto the ground an the kitten gets louder, thinkin I’ve abandoned it. No fucken way I’m doin that, tho, but I want to get my breath as the smell’s so rank an my fingers hurt from strainin. I look at the flats an wonder what sort of fucken savage throws a kitten into a rubbish chute, lettin it tumble into a bin. Some of the people round here, seriously, they’re unbelievable. Don’t get me started.

Hookin my fingers over the edges, I pull myself up an land on the rubbish. The bags split and all kinds of fruity smells come waftin up. I grab the kitten an sit on the side, swingin my legs over and drop onto the ground. The kitten’s tryin to bite an claw me, making these yelpin noises. I hold it up an look at its furry head an sharp tiny teeth, seein it’s a girl. I place her on my shoulder an stroke her back, makin shoosh sounds.

I walk to the block of flats where I live, headin up the main stairwell. I hear voices an feel that twist in me in case it’s someone wantin a fight. They’re on the second floor balcony an I quicken my pace an go up the stairs two at a time to reach the third floor. I get the key from my pocket, walkin along the veranda, as my mum calls it, lookin at the other flats, wishin I could live on the roof of the tower block, out of harm’s way.

It’s dark now an I can see half a moon in the sky like a lemon slice.

There’s loud music playin from one of the flats an I know which one. I reach the front door an hear the boom-boom bass, puttin my key in the lock. A neighbour comes out, Amanda, she’s a Jehovah’s Witness an thinks blood transfusions are blasphemy an yet she’s a fucken hypocrite cos she wears thick glasses an her wrist an hand are all padded up for her borin carpet tunnel. She’s seen me through the kitchen window an comes out an gets righteous on me.

Four time I’ve banged on the walls and knocked on your door… Four times this evening... Four times.

I tuck the kitten under my t-shirt, hopin Amanda’s too angry to notice.

How many did you say? I’ve been out.

Don’t get fresh with me. I know you was out. I’m telling you to tell your mother to turn that noise down.

The kitten’s bitin my belly an it hurts like fuck.

I will.

This is beyond a joke. I’ll be on to the Council, don’t you worry about that. You tell your mother, if that music isn’t turned down then I’ll be calling the police too and I bet they’d be interested to see what’s in your flat. The smell of that smoke comes through my walls.

Okay.

Other people live here too.

Obviously.

I’m not messing, young man.

I’ll tell her.

She sucks her teeth an goes back into her Watchtower. We both know that mum won’t listen to me or anybody when she’s chuckin it down her throat an smokin shit.

Besides, Amanda’s Amanda and it’s not her teeth kissin I’m bothered about. It’s the fucken furry vampire under my t-shirt, clawin an scratchin an bitin. I pull her out.

Pack it in, or do you wanna go in the rubbish chute again?

Jokes.

I turn the key an enter the flat, tuckin her under my t-shirt. The livin room door is shut an I can hear music an voices. Mum is laughin and Liam, AKA fake uncle, is in there too, plus other fucken out an out losers. I dart into my bedroom, drop the vampire kitten, an then go into the kitchen, seein the plates an cups, glasses, beer cans an bottles. I look in the fridge an it’s desperate times – a tub of marg, two eggs, and a plate that had pizza slices that was supposed to be my dinner an now all that’s left are crumbs and, just to really rub it in, a bit of crust. There’s plenty of cans of lager an' an unopened bottle of cider. Amanda’s got no chance of gettin mum an her mates to pipe down. They’ll keep goin until they've caned the last drop of booze.

I take what’s left of the milk in the shelf on the fridge door an pour it into the one remainin clean saucer. I see tins of tuna in spring water in the cupboard an take them. I don’t bother goin into the livin room. It’s better if I don’t. All they’ll ask me to do I bet is go to the off-licence to buy more fags an booze like I’m a fucken mule. I take a newspaper an cardboard box for shoes in the hallway an head to my room an the kitten is right by the door, meowin, an I can’t remember the last time someone was waitin for me. I lock the door an pick her up an we go an sit on Mike’s bed. I have the whole room to myself now since he was sent off to Kelsham for beatin a suit up at a bus stop for pushin in.

I place the bowl of milk down for the kitten an pull the ring to remove the metal lid on a can of tuna, stirrin the fish up with a finger to make the pieces looser for her to eat. She’s too fucken scared, tho, an keeps nuzzlin into me, wantin to cuddle. I turn on my side an hold her close, feelin how warm she is, strokin her soft head. She’s all black except for white splashes on her paws an a white stripe on her head and nose.

Things got worse after Mike went to young offenders. He sort of kept mum in line when he was here. ‘ish. Don’t get me wrong, he can be a massive twat face, but it’s a shame he got done.

I pinch a flake of tuna, holdin it between my fingers. She sniffs it but doesn’t eat.

I break up the cardboard, layerin paper to make a tray. I put the dish an tin on the floor an set her onto the carpet. I lie next to her, watchin how she walks, all woolly an nervous, yelpin.

I take out my secret stash of crisps an Dr Peppers.

She won’t eat a crisp neither.

The walls thud with the bass from the music.

Mum does her dirty laugh.

The music gets louder an I know someone has opened the door of the livin room. I hear weein in the bathroom an a flush an then a knockin on my door.

Jason, you in there.

Mum turns the handle. She can’t come in cos of Mike’s lock that he put on after one of her boyfriends used to try to get into the room with us at night.

Wait a sec, I say, an I put the kitten in the wardrobe an push the saucer, tuna tin an toilet under the bed. I go an open the door.

Alright, sweetheart, I thought I heard you come home.

Yeah.

You had a nice day?

Her breath is sweet smellin and makes me want to vom. It’s her eyes I can’t stand, when she’s like this, all glassy and wonky.

I nod at her.

Oh, don’t pull that face. You don’t mind me havin fun now and then, do you?

There’s laughter from the livin room.

Don’t give me the silent treatment, Jason. I’ve had it up to fucken here with lectures today. Don’t start with your guilt trips.

I’ve not said nothing.

You don’t need to.

Amanda asked me to ask you to turn the music down.

Oh, next door can fuck off. Fucken killjoy that she is. Why don’t you go an tell her I said that?

I shake my head.

I’ve a good mind to go over. She never stops startin.

Is there any dinner?

What?

The pizza was supposed to be for me.

They had it, she says, pointin to the livin room.

Then what’s for me?

You weren’t home for dinner, were you? I thought you’d sorted yourself out that’s why you didn’t come home.

I feel like sayin that if I had come back I bet she wouldn’t have been here. Judgin by the rat-arsed state of her, she’s been down the pub or drinkin somewhere all day. I keep my thoughts to myself.  Mike told me there’s nothing to gain by backchattin when she’s slaughtered.  

I come to say hello and see how you are and all I’m getting is fucken guilt trips from you, Jay. I’m in no mood for it, I tell you. Now it’s late so be gettin yourself to bed.

I can’t sleep.

Why not?

Cos of the music.

Fer fuck’s sake, let me unwind. You’re at it again.

I’m not.

Now come here.

And like that, her mood changes. She kisses me on the head. It’s mental how fast she switches gears when hammered.

I love you, Jay, even if you are a moanin little shitbag. Now we’ll turn the music down to let you sleep, but I’ve friends round an we’re havin a couple of drinks.

Sure.

Oh, before I forget, we’re goin to see your brother on Saturday. That’ll be nice, won’t it?

You spoke to Mike?

Men are shoutin for mum from the livin room. I don’t like the slurrin in their voices an how they’re talkin about her.

I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, sweetheart.

Alright.

Night, night. Don’t forget to brush your teeth before bed.

I won’t, mum.

Love you.

Love you too.

She staggers backwards as she turns to go to the livin room.

I brush my teeth in the bathroom, wee, and then lock the door of my bedroom.

I pull out the food, milk, litter tray and gently take the kitten out of the wardrobe an lie in my bed with her snuggled into me.

The music goes quieter for a while an then a song comes on an they turn it up louder than before.

Amanda bangs on the walls.

The kitten doesn’t stop bitin.

I call her TC.

After Tracey Clarke.

The girl I can’t stop thinkin about and who doesn’t give me the time of day.

I wonder what to do about school, whether to go in or bunk off.

I still haven’t told mum about them wantin to call social services.

I light a ciggie, takin swigs of Dr Pepper.

Mum and her loser friends are singin.

Part of me fucken wishes Amanda would call the Old Bill instead of just talkin about doing it.

When I was little, I used to believe grown-ups did what they said and kept their promises.

I don’t think that anymore.