CHERUB: The Recruit (26 page)

‘Come to my house.’

James felt odd being bossed around by a three-year-old. They ran about a hundred metres, Gregory leading James by the hand.

Gregory sat down on the doorstep of a smartly painted hut and pulled off his wellies.

‘Come in,’ Gregory said.

James put his head in the door. The hut had room for six to sleep. The floor was painted bright orange, with shocking green walls and a purple ceiling. Plastic dolls hung everywhere. James noticed they were mutants, with blood painted on their faces and freaky punk hairstyles.

‘Who’s that?’ Bungle asked, with an American twang.

James was embarrassed, standing in a strange doorway on the orders of a three-year-old.

‘Sorry, Gregory brought me here,’ James explained.

‘What you sorry for, boy?’ Bungle said. ‘We’re a community. Come in, get your boots off. Gregory’s always dragging kids in here. You want hot milk?’

James pulled his wellies off and stepped inside. It was wonderfully warm, but smelled like farts and sweat. Eleanor lay on a mattress. She had nothing on but knickers and a Nirvana T-shirt stretched over a pregnant belly.

Gregory gave his mum a cuddle. Bungle made introductions, asked James the same questions as everyone else, then handed him a mug of hot milk.

‘Unzip your tracksuit top, Ross,’ Bungle said.

James was mystified but did what he was asked.

‘Reebok,’ Bungle said triumphantly.

‘What?’ James asked, confused.

‘He hates people who wear clothes with trademarks on,’ Eleanor explained.

‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’ James asked.

‘I don’t hate the people,’ Bungle said. ‘I hate the clothes. Look at yourself, Ross. Puma jacket, Nike tracksuit, Reebok T-shirt, even his socks have got a logo on them.’

‘Just ignore Bungle,’ Eleanor said. ‘He thinks people wearing labels on their clothes is a sign that they can’t think for themselves.’

Bungle rushed over to a bookshelf and passed James a book called
No Logo
.

‘Give your brain a bit of exercise,’ Bungle said. ‘Read it. If you want we can discuss it when you bring it back.’

James took the book.

‘I’ll look at it,’ James said. ‘All my stuff is Nike and that. At my old school you got your head stuck down the toilet if you wore unfashionable clothes.’

‘For god’s sake, Bungle,’ Eleanor said. ‘He’s a kid. He’s not interested in that stuff.’

James didn’t care what some hippy thought about his clothes, but the book gave James an excuse to come back and hang around a prime suspect, so he put it in his pocket and said thanks.

‘Ross, ask him about the dolls before he bores you to death talking about the evils of world capitalism,’ Eleanor said.

Bungle sounded annoyed. ‘You handed out leaflets with us, Eleanor.’

Eleanor laughed. ‘Ross, in principle, I support fair wages for people in poor countries. I want to help save the environment. I want Bungle and his pals to save the world. But I’m eight months pregnant. The baby presses on my insides, so every half hour I waddle through two hundred metres of filth to go sit on a stinking portable toilet. Gregory is driving me crazy. My ankles are swollen like beach balls and I’m half terrified the car we borrowed is going to break down on the way to the hospital when I go into labour. I’d happily surrender all my principles for a comfy bed in a private hospital.’

James sat on the floor and sipped his hot milk.

‘The dolls are excellent,’ he said. ‘Did you make them?’

‘That’s my living,’ Bungle said.

Bungle pulled one of the dolls off the ceiling and dropped it in James’ lap. It was the torso and head of an Action Man. but it wore a tutu and had skinny ballerina legs glued on. The hair was spiky purple. One hand was cut off and the stump was painted with fake blood.

‘Cool,’ James said.

‘I buy the dolls at jumble sales and boot fairs. Then I mix all the bits up and make weird costumes and stuff out of scraps.’

‘How much?’ James asked.

‘Depends where,’ Bungle said. ‘Cardiff market, they’re all poor, nobody will pay more than ten pounds. If I get a stall at Camden in London you can sell them for eighteen a throw. When it’s packed out in the summer you can shift sixty dolls a day. One time I sold eighty-four.’

‘One thousand, five hundred and twelve quid in a day,’ James said. ‘You must be loaded.’

‘You some sort of human adding machine?’ Bungle asked.

James laughed. ‘Kind of.’

‘Takes over an hour to make each one. Painting all the fiddly bits does your eyes in. You want a doll, Ross?’

‘They’re cool,’ James said. ‘I haven’t got any money though.’

‘Take one,’ Bungle said. ‘Maybe you can do us a favour. Look after Gregory for a couple of hours one day or something.’

*

It was an unwritten Fort Harmony rule that there was a free evening meal in the main hut for anyone who wanted it. Gladys Dunn bought vegetables from local farmers with the money she earned from her book. Joshua spent his afternoons preparing the vegetables and making either stew or a curry. Everyone eating together was what made Fort Harmony a community rather than a bunch of separate families.

James ate with the kids when they got out of school. Michael Dunn collected a vanload of scrap from a local dump. All the kids helped pile up old doors and bits of furniture to make a bonfire for the evening festivities. James tried to make friends with Sebastian and Clark Dunn. They were ten and eleven-year-old brothers; cousins of Fire, World and Scargill. The Dunns were a close family, and Sebastian and Clark were James’ best chance to pick up all the gossip.

James found Amy and Scargill sitting on Amy’s bed smoking. Scargill looked like a geek: spindly arms and legs, greasy black hair tied back in a pony-tail. He wore a kitchen uniform from his job at Green Brooke.

‘It stinks in here,’ James said, stepping in through the hole between the old and new parts of Cathy’s hut.

‘This is my little brother, Ross,’ Amy said. ‘He’s a whiny little shit.’

‘You’re
harsh
, Courtney,’ Scargill said, laughing.

James was hurt. They had to act like brother and sister, but he didn’t see why she had to be nasty. He was also jealous: Scargill was getting to spend all his time with Amy.

‘Why are you here, Ross?’ Amy asked.

‘This
is
my room as well,’ James said.

‘Scargill and me want privacy, so get what you came in for and sod off.’

‘Did you get a job?’ James asked.

‘I’m an attendant at Green Brooke spa,’ Amy said. ‘Four days a week.’

James started rummaging through his stuff.

‘What do you want, Ross?’ Amy asked.

‘My mobile,’ James said. ‘I was gonna see how Mum is.’

‘Take mine, it’s charging up in the car.’

‘Thanks, Courtney,’ James said.

*

James sat in the front seat of the Land Cruiser and made a call to Ewart Asker.

‘Hey, James, how’s it going?’ Ewart asked.

‘Not bad, Amy’s pissing me off.’

‘She with Scargill?’

‘Permanently,’ James said.

‘That’s her job, James. She’s got to get as close to him as she can.’

‘She told him I was a whiny shit.’

Ewart cracked up. ‘That gives Scargill a sign that she prefers him to her kid brother. She doesn’t mean it.’

‘Scargill must be in heaven,’ James said. ‘Scrawny little nerd and he’s got Amy all over him.’

‘You’ve got a bit of a soft spot for Amy, don’t you?’ Ewart asked.

James’ instinct was to deny it.

‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘If I was older I’d ask her out. How did you know?’

Ewart laughed. ‘You get this glazed look in your eyes when she’s in the room.’

James panicked. ‘What? Is it that obvious?’

‘I’m joking, James,’ Ewart said. ‘So how’s Cathy?’

‘Seems OK now,’ James said.

‘How did you get on with Sebastian and Clark Dunn?’

‘Bad,’ James said. ‘They’re weird kids. Tough-looking and smelly. They talk to each other as if you’re not even there. None of the other kids hang out with them much either.’

‘Keep trying, but don’t force it. Any other news?’

‘I got one good break,’ James said. ‘I made friends with Gregory Evans, Bungle’s son. I spent nearly an hour with them. Bungle gave me a book called
No Logo
to read.’

‘Good book,’ Ewart said. ‘Read it. Go and see him, pretend you don’t understand something and use it as an excuse to hang around.’

‘There’s not much about Bungle on file, is there?’ James said.

‘No. He’s been seen with all the bad guys, but he’s never been arrested. There are over a thousand people called Brian Evans in Britain; we don’t know which one he is. We don’t even know exactly how old he is or where he comes from.’

‘He sounds American,’ James said. ‘He’s got that twangy sound in his voice. I think they call them rubbernecks.’

‘What’s a rubberneck?’

‘Like in the movies. Cowboy types, kind of stupid, he sounds like one of those.’

Ewart laughed. ‘You mean a redneck?’

‘That’s it,’ James said. ‘He sounds like a redneck.’

‘That’s useful to know. I’ll get the Yanks to see if they have anything on him. What we need is for you to get in Bungle’s hut, take some pictures and have a rummage through any paperwork you can find. But don’t take any risks to make it happen. If you’re seen taking pictures for no good reason it will blow your cover.’

‘Bungle said they might ask me to keep an eye on their little boy when they go out.’

‘That would be an ideal opportunity, specially if the kid falls asleep. Are you sure they’d trust someone your age to look after him?’

‘Bungle suggested it,’ James said.

‘Don’t sound too eager, they might think it’s odd. Anything else?’

‘That’s all I can think of,’ James said.

‘Keep in touch, James,’ Ewart said. ‘It sounds like you’re doing a grand job.’

‘Thanks, bye Ewart.’

*

It was past eleven and people were still arriving. They came in groups of four and five, pulling booze, food and firewood out of cars. Portable CD players competed with didgeridoos, tom-toms and guitars. The crowd was mostly teenagers and twenty-somethings: students from Cardiff and kids from the local villages, with a few old hippies who had turned up every Friday since the year dot.

James wandered. He felt awkward. Younger kids rushed around chasing and fighting, older ones drank beer and snogged. James didn’t fit well with either group. He moved away from the party into the forest. He could hear bangs from a clearing in the distance. As James got closer he worked out it was the sound of an air pistol. The kids were Sebastian and Clark Dunn. They were freaks. If James wasn’t on a mission he would have steered clear, but it was his job to make friends. He decided to have another go.

Sebastian and Clark vanished before James reached the clearing. There was a bird on the ground, cooing loudly and struggling in the mud. It was hard to see what was wrong in the dark, but the bird was in a bad way. James crouched down. He wondered if he should bash the bird with a rock to put it out of its misery.

Sebastian bolted out from the trees. He landed on top of James and tried to pin him, but James was too strong. James elbowed Sebastian in the stomach. Clark came out to help with the ambush. He was almost as tall as James and probably heavier. Clark bashed James over the head with a heavy torch. The brothers managed to get James under control.

Clark pressed the torch head into James’ eye and clicked the bulb on. Squeezing his eyelid tight didn’t stop the light from burning his eye. James was worried. Hopefully they would just rough him up, but who knew how crazy these kids were? If James yelled nobody would hear over all the noise from the party.

‘Why are you following us, scum?’ Clark asked.

‘I wasn’t,’ James said. ‘I just came this way.’

Clark grabbed a chunk of James’ hair and tugged his head out of the mud. James felt Sebastian, who was sitting on his legs, shift his weight slightly. James kicked up both legs, hitting Sebastian in his back. Sebastian yelled out and tumbled off. Now his legs were free, James thrashed about and tried to release his arms, which were pinned to his sides by Clark’s thighs.

‘I’ll knock you out,’ Clark said.

Clark punched James in the head. James put all his strength into lifting his stomach off the ground, making space under himself to slide out his hands. He scrambled from under Clark and stood up. Clark ran at James. James realised that months of getting hammered by black belts at CHERUB was about to pay off. Without the element of surprise, Sebastian and Clark didn’t have a chance.

James waited until Clark got close. He sidestepped, kicked Clark full force in the stomach, punched him in the mouth and finished off stamping him behind the knee so he smacked into the ground. Sebastian looked angry but didn’t fancy joining in. Clark looked pleadingly at James from his knees, hoping his beating was finished.