We Come Apart Read online

  For Alan, Richard and Daniel – S.C.

  For Ian and Catherine – B.C.

  Contents

  Part One

  Part Two

  Part Three

  BRIAN CONAGHAN

  SARAH CROSSAN

  Caught

  You have to be quick,

  none of this pretending to be browsing business

  that some shoplifters go for.

  It’s in

  grab what you want

  and out again.

  But the others don’t get it.

  They take ages making decisions,

  like they might be legit buying,

  so I know before we’re done

  that

  we’re done for.

  And I’m right.

  We don’t make it two steps out of

  Boots

  before a security guard

  nabs me by the hood of my jacket.

  Liz and Shawna are

  legging it up the high street

  and away,

  while Meg and I

  get dragged back into the shop

  and up to an office.

  ‘Empty your pockets,

  you little scrubbers!’ the security guard shouts.

  ‘Can’t make us,’ I say.

  ‘You want me to call the police?’ he asks.

  ‘That what you want?’

  ‘No!’ Meg says,

  and as quick as a heartbeat

  turns her coat pockets

  inside out.

  But they’re empty.

  No lipstick or nail varnish,

  none of the mini chocolate eggs I saw her

  stash away either.

  ‘I didn’t even do nothing,’ she says.

  She bites her bottom lip,

  starts to well up.

  Looks all sorts of pathetic

  really.

  ‘Now you,’ the security guard says,

  poking the air around me with his fat finger.

  I turn out my pockets

  wondering if all the gear I tried to nick

  will somehow disappear too,

  like Meg’s did.

  But it doesn’t.

  Everything clatters to the floor:

  lipstick, blusher, mascara, nail varnish

  and

  bloody mini chocolate eggs.

  Mini chocolate eggs that I didn’t nick.

  Mini chocolate eggs that Meg can’t get enough of.

  She winks.

  She winks to tell me to keep schtum,

  to make sure I don’t tell it as it is –

  that she somehow managed to stuff her loot

  into my pockets on the way up to the office,

  that she’s meant to be my mate

  but is stitching me up

  and letting me take the rap

  for everyone else’s thieving.

  Again.

  ‘What’s all that?’ the security guard asks,

  pointing at the gear on the floor.

  ‘Never seen it before,’ I say.

  ‘Really?’ he asks.

  ‘Well, it just came out of your pockets.’

  ‘Can I go now?’ Meg asks.

  I stare at her,

  hard.

  Is she for real?

  Like, is she actually going to leave me here

  on my own

  with some mentalist security guard

  and the threat of juvenile jail?

  ‘Mum’ll be expecting me,’ she says.

  ‘I ain’t nicked nothing.’

  The security guard picks up the phone.

  ‘Yeah, you can go,’ he tells Meg.

  Then he grins at me,

  well pleased with himself –

  Captain Catch-A-Thief.

  ‘But you.

  You’re going down to the station.’

  HERE

  In the one month

  since we

  arriving to live in

  London North, England,

  it rain most

  of days,

  and sunshine only a few,

  which is funnier because

  we come here in

  summer.

  Tata say we here for

  short time

  only

  to make the Queen’s cash

  then

  return back

  to our city, town, village

  for to buy:

  house mansion

  then

  car with top speed

  then

  fashions for impressing

  then

  gifts for my older brothers and sisters

  who we leave in Romania.

  Tata lucky he have connections

  to give him strong job.

  On some days after we

  arrive

  I helping Tata with his

  tough work.

  He driving his white lorry van

  around streets,

  spying

  seeking

  searching

  for the metals that people in

  London North

  not wanting.

  We put every items on lorry and

  top man pays Tata hand cash

  for metals.

  It good for me to helping Tata

  because now I am main son

  and need to

  quick learn

  how to make family monies

  and be

  provider for all.

  This is what my peoples do.

  Roma mens

  become cash provider,

  for keeping all family happy

  in clothings and food.

  I am fifteen

  and man now,

  so my working in lorry van

  make much sense.

  Real reason we come to

  England

  is because I am

  older,

  and cannot be without

  working

  wealth,

  or

  wife.

  And Tata must to make

  sacks of cash

  for to pay

  family

  of girl

  back home.

  And then

  we can to marry.

  Which make gigantic hurt in my head.

  Caseworker

  You can’t even get into the youth offending services building

  without going through

  a series of locked doors

  and signing yourself in with

  two different doormen.

  Along every corridor are

  blue plastic chairs

  arranged in pairs,

  kids in hoodies slumped in

  them so you can’t see their faces.

  Some of them are with their parents,

  some aren’t,

  but there’s this low rumbling

  of rage in the place.

  You can smell it in the air.

  I don’t have to wait long to meet my caseworker

  – ‘Dawn Green’ according to her badge –

  who’s got the smug look of someone

  who thinks

  she knows

  more than most people.

  But Dawn Green knows jack shit

  about me.

  She tilts her head to one side

  like she’s talking to toddlers:

  ‘So … taking part in a reparation scheme

  would save Jess from getting

  a criminal record.’

  ‘Reparation scheme?’ Mum asks.

  ‘Yes. As this is her third offence,

  the police can’t turn a blind eye.

  She has to show a willingness to change,

/>   to give back to her community.’

  ‘So it’s like community service,’ Mum says.

  Dawn bites the insides of her lips.

  ‘It’s helping out in parks

  and attending self-development sessions.’

  Always quick with an apology, Mum says,

  ‘Well, she definitely wants to show she’s sorry.’

  ‘And she’ll do what she’s told,’ Terry adds,

  like he’s my dad

  and this is any of his bloody business.

  What is he even doing here?

  ‘Great, so,

  the police have proposed

  a scheme lasting three months.

  What do you think, Jess?’

  Dawn turns to me,

  finally,

  and I know that

  I’m meant to tell her

  how sorry I am for being such a drain on society

  and

  of course

  I’ll pick up crap down the park

  to make up for it.

  But a massive part of me

  wants to say no,

  wants to turn to Dawn and go,

  I’d rather do time

  and get a record

  than

  hang out with no-hopers

  and do-gooders

  for the next twelve weeks.

  Thanks all the same though.

  But I don’t get a chance to speak.

  Before I can open my mouth,

  Terry leans forward and grabs Dawn’s hand,

  shakes it like they’ve just done a deal

  and says,

  ‘When does she start?’

  ENGLAND IS THE STRANGER OF PLACES

  Some peoples

  smile and say hello

  in street or on bus.

  Other peoples

  not like my face

  and don’t returning

  the smile I sharing.

  Mămică feel same as me.

  Sometimes I see her

  feeling sad

  or

  I can hear her

  anger conversations with Tata:

  ‘This place isn’t for us, they don’t want our kind here,’ she say.

  ‘We won’t be here long,’ Tata say.

  ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Miri, we’ll be home by Christmas.’

  ‘We don’t fit in here.’

  ‘I know, but I’m making good money.’

  ‘So when we’ve made enough, we’ll go home?’

  ‘As soon as we’ve the money to pay for a wife and some left over.’

  ‘Christmas?’

  ‘Christmas.’

  And I hate hearing these conversation

  because many times

  I not wanting to return there.

  Most times

  I not wanting to think about

  old life.

  Or

  new wife.

  Bad Parent

  Terry’s out.

  Dawn’s got Mum and me

  sitting at the kitchen table

  with cups of tea,

  pretending we’re having a friendly

  chat when really

  she’s checking I’m not living

  in a shithole.

  ‘We’ve got classes we can offer parents too,’ she says to Mum,

  ‘Empowerment for Women and other things

  you might be interested in.’

  Mum won’t even consider it. ‘Don’t think so,’ she says.

  Dawn raises her eyebrows. ‘We find that young offenders

  are reacting to situations at home

  when they commit crime.’

  ‘I’m not a bad parent,’ Mum says

  quietly,

  though she doesn’t believe it.

  ‘And no problems between you and Jess’s dad?’ Dawn asks.

  ‘He left,’ Mum tells her.

  ‘And her stepdad?’

  ‘He stayed.’

  Dawn turns to me.

  ‘Anything you need support with, Jess?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t just have to pick litter

  and plant flowers.

  We have loads of courses you might like.’

  I take Mum’s lead,

  shake my head

  and say, ‘You’re all right,’

  when inside

  a little voice is screaming for Dawn Green

  to open her eyes and figure out

  who the real offender is.

  THE PETROL STATION

  Every eye watch me because

  one: my hair, clothes, skin, shoes

  is differing from people here.

  Every eye watch me because

  two: I not have car, cash, friends, trust.

  I walk in petrol station

  to Magic Trees department that give cars flower smell,

  newspapers with many hard words,

  magazines with many pictures of dirty beauty girls

  and

  celebrities with all the sexy muscle and money.

  Then I see them

  close to the pay area

  and near the exit get away.

  I spy candy sweets.

  My stomach do see-saw.

  My eyes pop.

  Too long since I eat

  any chocolate bar,

  all sitting in rows like little sparkle soldiers

  making technicolour in my eye.

  Which one?

  Which one?

  I know shop workers want to catch thief in red hand

  so I must act

  super rapido:

  grab

  snatch

  steal

  bolt.

  I do the quick nab,

  open door and

  Usain

  Bolt fast.

  Security man

  sprint faster.

  I tumble.

  Security man’s big hand

  dig in my shoulder.

  Big carrot fingers

  rip my trackie.

  Tata will go off his bonkers

  because he telling me many time

  never let them catching you.

  But they always catching me.

  Three time now they catch.

  That’s why

  I cry and have massive press in the chest.

  Not because another arrest

  or security man sitting his arse on me,

  but because I don’t want to be getting Tata’s

  left right

  right left

  jab

  to the abs or head.

  I see it all in my imaginings:

  me on floor,

  Tata snorting nose steam like bull,

  Mămică helping my

  tears

  and

  blood.

  I am terror full.

  That’s why

  I hoping police will be my protect

  when Tata come get me

  from

  cell station.

  Good Mates

  First day back at school

  Liz is like,

  ‘God, that was so bad.

  I totally thought we were gonna get done.’

  And Shawna goes,

  ‘We were so lucky.’

  And Meg’s like,

  ‘Yeah, close call, weren’t it?’

  I almost laugh,

  not

  cos anything’s funny –

  it’s cos I can’t really believe what I’m hearing.

  ‘It’s not a close call if you actually get caught,’ I say.

  ‘It wasn’t my first offence, was it?

  And now I’ve got to do this stupid scheme thing,

  like, every Saturday.

  How fucking lucky is that?’

  Meg puts her arm around my shoulder.

  ‘Yeah … but …

  what they’re saying

  is that only o
ne of

  us got caught,

  innit?’

  ‘Yeah … Me.’

  Meg sighs like I’m too stupid to get her point.

  ‘Look, Jess,

  your mum doesn’t

  care about that stuff,

  does she?

  If I got caught,

  my mum and dad would blow a nut.’

  ‘I’m picking up shit,’ I say.

  Meg smiles.

  ‘I know.

  You’re a well good mate, Jess.’

  But I’m not.

  I can’t be.

  If I were a good mate

  I wouldn’t be thinking about

  how to get my own back on Meg.

  THREATS AND PUNISHMENT

  After my arresting

  they threatening me with young people jail.

  They tell me I’ll be bitch boy.

  ‘Look at you,

  all dark skin,

  dark eyes.

  It’ll be a bit of exotic for them,’ Security Man One say.

  ‘They’ll be gagging to get their hands on you,’ Security Man Two say.

  ‘Good looking lad like yourself,’ One say.

  ‘Foreign,’ Two say.

  ‘Pretty boy.’

  ‘Fun boy.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Bit of crumpet.’

  They scare me too much with bitch boy story

  so that I tell to them all truths about my

  steal.

  But when real police come

  they not send me to

  young people jail.

  For goodness gracious sake no.

  They send me to something called