We Can Be Heroes (29 page)

‘So?'

‘So what?' I keep my finger following the swirls of the wood. I can make out a face, a hand.

‘So when do you get to go home?'

‘I dunno.' I don't look up.

‘That's a bummer,' says Priti, standing up and
sending a shower of pink off her jeans and on to the grass below.

‘You gonna stop gossiping and let me up or what?' shouts a voice from below.

Looking down, I can see Jed standing in the alleyway beneath. He scrambles up the fence and grabs hold of the trunk of the tree then me and Priti haul him up to the platform.

‘Where've you been?' asks Priti.

‘Just out for breakfast with my old man,' says Jed, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal.

‘What's he come back for anyway?' asks Priti. ‘I thought he only came at weekends.'

‘Figure he's worried about me with a kiddy-fiddler on the loose.'

‘Does he reckon the kidnapper will try and nab one of us too?' asks Priti, interested suddenly – even if it is Uncle Ian's idea.

‘Not you,' says Jed. ‘My dad reckons it's white kids they're after.'

‘Your dad would say that,' says Priti. ‘But what he doesn't realise is that colour is about genes not skin.'
She sounds like she's quoting a book again.

‘Colour is about
colour
, stupid,' says Jed.

‘Anyway, we reckon it was your mum who nicked Stevie,' Priti goes on, like it's so obvious she's right she can't be bothered to argue with him. ‘Because she misses you so much.'

‘Yeah, right!' says Jed.

‘She was there, stalking you. Nobody saw her but us. None of us saw her leave.'

‘My mum did not do it,' says Jed, angry suddenly.

‘It's all right. I never told the police she was there. Reckoned you wouldn't want me to.'

‘Tell them what you like. My mum wouldn't do a thing like that!'

‘I thought you said she was an evil witch capable of anything?' says Priti.

‘No, my dad said that.'

‘Same thing, isn't it?' says Priti, looking him straight in the eye.

‘No,' says Jed. ‘It's not.'

* * *

Just then we hear Uncle Ian's voice coming from the other end of the alleyway. ‘I don't want my name to be included, you understand?' he's saying. ‘Just say I'm a friend of the family.'

We crowd over to the edge of the tree house to see what's going on. Uncle Ian has his back to us, talking to a pretty lady reporter.

‘Here's the thing,' he's saying. ‘Apart from my boy and my nephew, Ben, Stevie Sanders was the only white kid there that afternoon. Not many white kids left around here these days, more's the pity!'

‘So you believe her disappearance is racially linked?' the reporter lady is asking.

‘Oh, that's real helpful that is,' Priti whispers.

‘I'm not saying it is, and I'm not saying it isn't,' says Uncle Ian. ‘But they reckon we dress our kids inappropriately, don't they? And there were all these Asian girls covered from head to toe in their burkhas or saris or whatever, and there's little Stevie wearing an itty-bitty vest and shorts. Maybe in their culture that means she's asking for it, but it doesn't in mine.'

I glance at Jed. He has the same pink spots in his
cheeks that Granny gets when she's upset.

Priti lets out a long breath and I'm sure she's about to say something bad about Uncle Ian so I butt in quickly. ‘Jed, you don't look too good,' I say. Which he actually doesn't, but that's not really the point. ‘We should get you home.' I give Priti a significant look because, after all, she still thinks he's dying.

Jed doesn't even bother to disagree. He clambers down the tree and I follow him although he doesn't look grateful or anything.

‘See you later?' I say to Priti.

‘Whatever,' she replies.

Then me and Jed troop across the road. Uncle Ian has gone and the pretty lady reporter follows us. ‘Has anyone ever approached you? Are you made to feel welcome by the Asian families who live around here?' But we just keep walking in silence.

When we get through the front door, Jed turns to me straight away and says fiercely, ‘It's just because my dad cares about me, you know!'

And he looks like he really needs me to agree with him, so I say, ‘Yeah, I know.'

Uncle Ian's comments were on the news last night and in all the papers today (not that his name appears – the reporter kept her word on that). And what he said seems to have started something cos suddenly all the newspapers are talking about racial tensions in the area and the reporters start asking questions about Priti's family and the people who were at the wedding. More reporters turn up and they bring up the story about Said being stabbed and Tyreese's brother being beaten up, and the fight at the parade. And somehow or other they seem to know that Mik was in a fight that night – although I don't know how they can have found this out.

Stevie's mum and dad are on the TV again, doing another press conference. And this time it's Stevie's mum who does all the talking. She looks right at the camera and she has her hand on her bump the whole time she's talking and she reads from a piece of paper where she must have
written down what she wants to say.

‘We appeal to the Asian community to help us find our child,' she says as camera flashes go off all around her, making her look blotchy red and yellow. ‘If one of you knows where my angel is, I beg you to not close your ears to our pleas for help just because of the colour of her skin.' (I can't help thinking how Stevie is almost as brown as Priti at the moment – perhaps Priti was right when she said that colour is not about skin at all.)

‘Relations between the Asians and the whites around here may not have been too good in the past,' she goes on, ‘but this is a child's life here. We appeal to all the Asian people to help us – if any of you knows something, please come forward. Cos Stevie is only a kid, no matter what colour her skin is.'

‘Well, that's done it,' says Grandad.

‘They'll be making speeches in parliament now,' laughs Uncle Ian, who's watching it with us. ‘Good on her! Somebody needed to say what we're all thinking.'

‘But there's no proof that the abductor was Asian,' says Granny.

‘Bound to be,' says Uncle Ian. ‘That's what those men go for, isn't it? They want their own wives all wrapped up like mummies and a nice little blonde bit on the side.'

‘She's a child, Ian!' says Granny.

‘So do you really think Stevie was taken by one of the Asians?' asks Jed.

‘Think about it, son. You start moving these people into a neighbourhood and the crime rates soar. It's a fact, innit?' says Uncle Ian. ‘The detectives know that same as us. They'll find whoever did it soon enough.'

‘Don't be so sure,' says Grandad. ‘What about that little girl who went missing abroad? Couple of years ago now. They never found out who got her.'

‘Reckon the British police are a bit better than the foreign lot, don't you?' says Uncle Ian. ‘They'll find her.'

‘Really?' says Jed.

‘Course, son,' says Uncle Ian. ‘And when they do, they'll find some piggin' Asian behind it all. I'd put money on it.'

* * *

After Uncle Ian leaves, I find Jed sitting in Grandad's gardening shed, listening to his iPod.

‘Your dad's gone,' I say.

He takes his earphones out and stares at me. ‘Has he?'

‘Didn't you want to say bye to him?'

He shrugs.

‘My mum reckons you should always say goodbye.'

‘She probably never said goodbye to your dad properly or something, that's why.'

I stare at him and imagine doodling a black rain cloud over his head.

‘Did your dad say that?' I ask.

‘Maybe.'

‘And you believe him.'

‘Course. We always tell each other the truth.'

‘Why didn't you tell him you've been seeing your other gran then?' I say.

He looks up. ‘Why don't
you
tell Granny you don't want to go home?'

‘Because I do want to,' I reply.

‘Yeah? I reckon if you did, you'd have called your mum by now.'

‘Not everyone hates their mum like you do!' I say.

‘Look, your dad got to die and be the hero. Lucky him. Cos it's a lot easier not to mess up when you're dead.'

And he puts his earphones back in and I just stand there, staring into the shed filled with Grandad's gardening stuff – stuff he never uses. Then I kick the shed door and walk away.

At bedtime I ask Granny if I can ring Mum now she's home. ‘Of course you can,' she said.

But I don't.

There's going to be big service in the city cathedral on Sunday to say prayers for the family of Stevie Sanders. Granny asks if we want to go, but me and Jed both say no. Granny and Grandad agree to stay at home and watch ‘The Service for Stevie' on the twenty-four-hour news channel instead. ‘It'll be heaving and I'm not one for crowds,' says Granny. Grandad just says, ‘
Hmmph!
'

We're all in the sitting room, watching the news with the sound off. (Grandad doesn't want to miss any developments, but Granny doesn't want the TV on all the time.) We've just had lunch so within about five minutes both grandparents are asleep.

Me and Jed go and hang out in the garden. I'm drawing some more Bomb-busters strips. Jed is kicking his football against the kitchen wall, even though Granny always asks him not to, and humming the tune to
Match of the Day
over and over, getting a little louder each time.

I draw a picture of Stee-V tied to a giant aerial on the top of a skyscraper with a bomb belt strapped round her waist. ‘
Heeeelp!
' says the speech bubble coming out of her mouth.

Eventually, I say, ‘Why didn't you want the police to know that you and your dad went back to the park after we saw your mum?'

Jed doesn't even turn his head in my direction. ‘We didn't see anything, that's why.'

‘You were gone for ages. You must have seen something.'

He just shrugs and keeps humming.

‘Was Stevie still there when you left?' I ask.

‘I can't remember,' says Jed.

The counter on Stee-V's explosive device reads,
10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . .

‘You must remember something,' I say.

‘Well I don't,' he says. ‘Here, give us a look.'

He snatches the notebook out of my hands, flops down next to me on the step and stares at the picture of Stee-V for what seems like ages.

‘What do you think?' I say.

‘Yeah, it's good,' he says distractedly. ‘Have you done any more of her?'

‘Who?'

‘The Stevie kid.'

‘A few,' I say. ‘She's in the new storyline.'

Jed flicks through the most recent pages of the pad. ‘Look,' he says. ‘If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?'

‘I suppose so.'

‘Cos I don't know if I can trust you not to go running straight to the cops. Do you swear on your mum's life not to tell anyone?'

I think about my mum, back at home, making a cup of tea in the kitchen, laughing with Gary, pale coral lipstick sparkling on her lips. ‘I can't do that,' I say.

‘Then I'm not talking,' says Jed.

I hesitate. ‘OK then,' I say. I think of her turning to look at me, smiling, her eyes full of life again.

‘On your mum's life?'

‘On my mum's life.'

‘OK, it was like this.' Jed talks really low, like
someone will hear us. ‘That day in the park. Stevie was still there when I went back. And I was going to tell her to bugger off back to the party, but then Mik came along and he was dead angry.'

‘What happened then?'

‘Mik told the bikers to clear off, but they started throwing bottles at him.' Jed keeps bouncing the ball between his knees as he talks. ‘I probably shouldn't be telling you this.'

‘I said I wouldn't tell anyone, didn't I?' I say, trying to push the image of my mum's face to the back of my mind. ‘Did they hurt him?'

Jed bounces the ball a little harder. ‘No, but one of the bottles nearly hit Stevie, so she hid in one of the pipes.

I imagine Stevie hiding in the pipe, covering her ears so she can't hear the sound of smashing glass.

‘What happened then?'

He keeps staring down and, apart from his hands on the ball, he is totally still. ‘Then Zara comes running out of the woods and she's crying and her top is all ripped and Tyreese comes after her, shouting stuff.'

‘What did Mik do?' I ask.

‘He started to go for Tyreese. But then Tyreese pulls out this knife and says he'll carve Mik up if he tries anything. Just like he did to his cousin.'

‘Is that what he said?'

‘Zara was crying and telling him to stop and then Mik pulls out a gun.' Jed stops bouncing the ball.

I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn't this. ‘A gun?'

Jed doesn't look up. He's holding the ball tightly in two hands. ‘He starts waving it around, saying he'll shoot if Tyreese takes another step.'

‘Was your dad there all the time?'

‘No,' Jed releases the ball and starts bouncing it again. ‘He arrived when Mik was waving the gun around. He told me to get the hell out of there, so I legged it down the alleyway.'

‘Did Stevie run away too?'

‘No, she was still in the pipe when I left.'

‘And your dad?'

‘I didn't see him again after that.'

I stare at Jed, but he doesn't look up. The ball keeps
marking out a nervous rhythm on the patio stone.

‘Why didn't you tell the police any of this?'